


Be My Muse

by Anonymous



Series: Masterpieces [1]
Category: Glee, klaine - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Angst, Chaptered, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, PWP, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Romance, crosspost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 36
Words: 49,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is an Art student at NYU who is partnered with the mysterious but talented Blaine Anderson for a piece on identity and finds himself instantly captivated and longing to know more. Blaine is a good guy with a bad reputation stemming from his Freshman year who's issues often get the better of him. Blaine, defensive and bitter, finds hope in Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Klaine!ArtStudent AU.
> 
> Warnings include: some graphic imagery, violence, drug use/abuse, alcohol consumption, smut, non-con and sexual extortion. Do not read if any of these are triggering for you in any way, read with caution.

"Hey Blaine! Open up!" Sing songed a voice. Blaine shuffled wearily towards the door of his apartment, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes in vain.

"Oh baby brother!" The voice sing songed once more.

"Alright, alright! Shut up!"

Blaine wrenched the door open to reveal Cooper Anderson, irrepressible big brother and asshat of the enigmatic Blaine Anderson.

 

Blaine Oliver Leonardo Anderson was a young man of twenty years of age, a little on the short side but strong and well-defined. He'd tell you that what he lacks in feet he makes up for in inches and the trail of more than satisfied one night stands from his apparently ‘artistically rebellious' stage at seventeen lay as proof.

 

With sun kissed skin, a sharp jaw line, smouldering hazel eyes and a wild, curly mass of black hair he was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, except maybe minus the excessive height. But now things were different. Estranged from his family, all except for neurotic brother Cooper, Blaine had enrolled at New York University to earn a degree in Art. His days were spent flitting from his studio apartment on the East Side to attending classes he barely needed. His nights, on the other hand, were spent mostly sleepless and mostly alone with the occasional night he couldn't remember the next morning.

 

"B finally!" Cooper rushed at him, pulling Blaine into a startling hug. "Wait..." he pulled back "Two things: number one, why are you half naked? And number two, are you high right now because I mean seriously Blaine I-"

"Whoa, whoa. First of all it's hot and it's my apartment so I can be as naked as I want and second no I am not high Coop, I haven't had a hit in like three days."

"Three days huh? That's a new record." Cooper muttered, wandering through the bizarre interior of Blaine's apartment without invitation.

 

Simply put Blaine wasn't a fan of conventional decorating methods. The walls of his apartment were his canvases; the pale walls covered in everything from full scale charcoal sketches of humans and creatures a like to entire walls of whimsical landscapes. Some were bright and fantastical, others were haunted and dark.

 

Light streamed in through the floor to ceiling windows of the sparse but vast living room. Blaine was also not much of a furniture fan. The entire apartment only consisted of Blaine's Queen sized bed, a night stand, a walk in wardrobe, a closet containing piles of his sketch books and materials and several musical instruments including a battered grand piano. The floor of the apartment was also covered in sketches but only partially; spattered with paint yet still smooth under Blaine's often bare feet. The only area of the apartment that wasn't plastered with Blaine's fancies was the pristine kitchen which, to no one's surprise, was hardly ever used.

 

Cooper began to shuffle towards the other half of the apartment which comprised of the bathroom, the bedroom and Blaine's studio. The room he only ever used when he was required to create for someone other than himself. He'd taken one step toward the partitioning wall when Blaine skidded to a halt in front of him, arms outstretched and looking mildly panicked. Cooper's eyes widened, a smirk slowly curling his lips.

 

"Blainers! Have you got someone waiting for you back there in that big bed of yours?!"

"WHAT?-Coop-"

"Well this explains why you're only in slacks and your hair is atrocious damn."

"Hey! My hair isn't-"

"Why didn't you tell me you were getting hot and heavy with some heavenly hunk eh?"

"I-what-I wasn-"

"I thought the Casanova stage ended freshman year Blainey seriously."

"I-STOP" Blaine breathed blushing to his roots.

 

"There's no one in my bed okay? No matter how much I would love there to be. Jeez Coop!"

"Then why won't you let me through?!" Exclaimed Cooper exasperatedly, pushing Blaine aside and moving towards the studio. "Honestly I only wanna check out what you're working on, there's no need to get so para-" Cooper stopped abruptly, looking into the studio "-noid."

 

The room was as messy as it always has been. Reference sketches lay strewn across the floor, both finished and unfinished pieces on canvases of all sizes leant precariously against the walls. Usually Blaine had several easeled canvases set up at a time and he would alternate between them. This time there was only one, situated right in the centre of the room. Cooper slid forward to study it more closely as Blaine hovered anxiously in the doorway. He never intended anyone to discover this particular piece. Never had he intended or wanted someone to stumble upon something so precious.

 

It was a pastel drawing of a man. Cooper turned back to look at his baby brother and saw that his arms were coiled tightly around himself. It was then that he noticed the differences: smudges on his hands, arms and chest; traces of pastel streaked through his unruly curls; taut muscles pattered with goose bumps and eyes bright with longing. Baby brother's got it bad.

 

The figure was lithe and pale, ethereal in his beauty and given an otherworldly hue by meticulous shading. He was draped out on his side like a silk throw, his head resting sweetly on his folded arms as the rest of the man's body stretched out in a languorous smooth expanse of flawless skin, tangled at the hip in rumpled bedding. He was serene, with a chiselled jaw and sharp cheek bones defined by a blooming pale blush. Silky chestnut hair tumbled into piercing blue eyes flecked with a plethora of greens and greys. A content smile graced soft, full and delicious looking lips.

 

"Well, well, well," said Cooper clearing his throat and glancing back at Blaine "you must have been happy the morning after this one." He smirked, looking closely at Blaine who's cheeks blossomed with colour beneath his sun kissed skin; his expression otherwise unreadable.

 

Blaine stood looking resolutely at the angel on canvas in front of him.

"I wouldn't know," he replied in barely a whisper "I'm not so sure I'm awake yet."

 

"So we didn't just dream him up?" Cooper asked, staring between Blaine and his art, completely amazed. "He's so-" he whispered looking at his brother with worried eyes "When I met him he seemed so vibrant, so alive."

 

Blaine turned his back to the room, his brother and the drawing. He lowered his head, shoulders hunching and arms falling lifelessly to his sides. He took a large shuddering breath. His voice, when he heard it, was dead; choked and bitter.

 

"He's more alive than I'll ever be."


	2. One

First day of the semester and he was right on schedule. Kurt was warm and bathed in sunlight as he made his way to campus, a pencil tucked behind his ear and a brand new sketch book wedged safely in his satchel, humming contentedly as he sipped his Grande Non-fat Mocha and smiling pleasantly at the children rushing by him toward the park.

 

The first day of a new semester was always Kurt Hummel's favourite. The excitement of a new start, a new project, new art thrilled him to no end, and especially this time. This semester was going to be the best one yet if Kurt had any say in the matter. With excitement flooding his chest Kurt decided to arrive early to class that bright sunny morning. Rounding on his building and pushing the door open he smiled and took in the familiar classroom.

 

Everything was as it always had been. The walls were still splashed with every colour of paint imaginable, the large projector and screen at the front of the room, the same tiered desks and seating... Kurt took one step toward the stairs before noticing that he wasn't the only one who had decided to arrive early for class that day.

 

A boy, whom Kurt had noticed a few times, sat leaning back in his chair against the fifth tier. Kurt looked closely as he made his way carefully up the stairs. The boy's wild curls fell haphazardly over his forehead, long eyelashes fanned out prettily along his tanned cheeks, dozing silently. Spread in front of him on the desk lay several small, beaten up sketch books and an assortment of charcoals and pencils, all scattered as if they'd been thrown down. Kurt leant over the railings to take a closer look. The boy must have been sleeping peacefully for the first time in days, judging by his drawn features and the dark circles that marred the hollows of his closed eyes. Kurt had been studying him for a while before the sketchbooks suddenly caught his eye.

 

There in breathtaking detail was a depiction of a wolf pack, around a dozen of the beautiful creatures coiled around each other, nestled at the edge of a rocky plane, lined with winter stripped trees. He leant further over the railing, taking tentative steps along the aisle to get an even better look. It was then that he noticed. On top of one of the jagged rocks lay a lone wolf. It was entirely black, curled tightly, head resting on its paws as it stared sorrowfully back at him with graphite, gleaming eyes. He felt his breath catch and he stumbled a little. The sleeping boy jolted awake, looking terrified and panicked until his wide hazel eyes fell upon the most stunning man he had ever seen.

 

"I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Kurt stuttered, flushing a delicate pink as the boy continued to stare up at him.

"I was admiring your work," he almost whispered taking a few tentative steps along the aisle and sitting down "it's beautiful, so intricate." The boy looked down at his sketchbook eyes lingering on the lone wolf, a calloused finger caressing its outline. He smudged the charcoal with his fingertip, making it flare outwards slightly almost imitating fur being tussled in the wind. He leant back brushing smudged fingertips through his hair, eyes moving warily from the page back to Kurt.

 

"Thank you," he turned and studied Kurt closely, almost nervously "I don't hear that very often."

"I can't imagine why, it's breathtaking." Kurt smiled slightly as the hazel eyed boy ducked his head modestly.

"It's very kind of you. A lot of people tend to avoid it, my work that is."

"I honestly just can't see why-" Kurt blurted; he'd never seen anything so wonderfully detailed as this boy's work.

"You can't? Mine is an intense style. I tend to draw more than what people wish to see."

"Well I for one would like to see more. May I?" he asked tentatively, gesturing to the sketchbook. The other boy simply nodded and turned away to start scribbling in another book across from him.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Ten minutes later Kurt was still gaping in awe at the sketchbook he held reverently in his hands as other students began to file in and take their seats. He was captivated by the worlds this fascinating boy could create on a single page. All too soon he was pulled back to reality when Mr Gabriel began the lecture. He closed the sketchbook and reached over to place it back in front of the mysterious boy when one of the other sketchbooks caught his eye. On the page was a simple pastel drawing of him. Profiled with lovingly coloured pink cheeks, red lips, and sparkling blue eyes he turned to gape at its creator. He simply gave him a small smile; eyes alight as he turned to pay attention to Mr Gabriel and Kurt pulled out his own sketchbook.

 

"Now this semester we're going to mix things up a little." Exclaimed Mr Gabriel enthusiastically. "This semester your final pieces will be based on the theme of identity." The whole class groaned collectively. "But," he added with a mischievous grin "we aren't talking about personal identity, we're talking about how you identify with someone other than yourself." Mr Gabriel turned to his desk and picked up a sheet of paper "You, along with your partner, are required to create a piece that you feel defines the other in some way. But, be warned, this is not a portrait challenge. In order to pass you must know your muse,  _really_  know them." Mr Gabriel surveyed the room of artists before him. "Your pairs are as follows..."

 

"Ainsley, Benjamin Lou Stewart with Theobold, Rose Anna"

"Archer, Tom with Turner, Scarlet Lizzie"

"Alexa, Beth Donna with Smith, Cadence"

"Anderson, Oliver Leonardo Blaine with Hummel, Elizabeth Kurt"

 

Kurt swivelled in his seat to try and locate his partner. Bouncing in his seat with excitement he looked back at the boy next to him who glanced at his sketchbook, eyes widening and taking a shaky breath in.

 

"Hi Kurt."

"Hi- OH!" Kurt almost fell of his seat in recognition "You're Blaine!"

"I am" Blaine laughed lightly.

"I knew you looked familiar!"

"Oh?" He was pretty sure they'd never met, despite Blaine's admiration from afar or behind originally whatever. "Blaine Oliver Leonardo Anderson, Casanova of Fine Art class of 2014" Kurt giggled, something adorable that made his nose scrunch up and his eyes twinkle. Blaine wanted to smack his own head against the desk repeatedly.

"What am I going to have to do to make people forget that? I've been off almost everyone's radar for like a year and a half."

"Maybe you were just anything but forgettable." Kurt said coyly, his cheeks tinting as he looked up at Blaine with innocent baby blues under thick lashes. Blaine was pretty sure he just choked, on air. A stray strand of hair fell across Kurt's forehead and his fingers itched to comb it back into place; to feel his pale skin and bring him closer. He coughed and tore his gaze away from Kurt.

 

"So we're paired..." Blaine tried, nonchalantly.

"We are" Kurt replied, nervously playing with his fingers.

"So..." Blaine took a deep breath, steeling himself "Would you like to talk about the dynamics of this assignment over coffee sometime?"

"Sure, I'd love to Blaine."


	3. Two

Kurt sat fidgeting slightly in a coffee shop off campus. The place was new to him, small and cosy with plush chairs and mahogany tables, a small stage set in the corner for what he assumed was some kind of weekly entertainment. It had been suggested by Blaine whilst they exchanged numbers with excited smiles that they meet there to plan how to go about their current assignment. However, Blaine was fifteen minutes late already and Kurt was beginning to feel seriously uncomfortable.

 

He was just about to gather his things and leave when the boy himself came barrelling through the door, running his hands vigorously through his curls to try and tame them, but to no avail. Scanning the room, he spotted Kurt and grinned brightly, making his way over. The closer Blaine came to him the more Kurt was able to take in. He wore a simple white tank top spattered with acrylic paint and dark jeans with battered grey converse high tops. He was so beautifully dishevelled it was hard for Kurt not to stare as Blaine took a seat across from him.

 

"I'm so sorry I'm late," breathed a still grinning Blaine Anderson, looking a bit wild eyed "I came across a six year old road block."

"Oh?"

"Arabella." Kurt raised an eyebrow in question.

"Oh sorry," Blaine laughed self-deprecatingly, "Arabella is my niece, Cooper was out for a job so he dropped her off last minute. It's been a while since me and Belle last hung out anyway but Coop was late and she decided to drown herself in acrylic."

"Aww that's adorable." Kurt laughed, the sound clear as a bell as he imagined Blaine sitting across from a curly haired little girl covered in finger paint, laughing.

"Yeah, I mean she's a keen little artist," he smiled softly, eyes twinkling "it's always "Uncle B? Will you help me draw a castle?" or "Uncle B? PWEASE can we use the special pink paint today?""

"Uncle B? That is precious." Kurt teased as a blush crept its way up Blaine's neck.

"Well Belle sure is" Blaine rest his chin in his hands, admiring the subtle way that rays of sunlight filtered through the window, making Kurt's hair glow golden and his eyes sparkle like topaz. "Coop has most of her canvases up around their apartment."

 

Kurt gaped at Blaine. "You let her use canvases, wow. Canvases are expensive and you're just a student." Blaine shrugged.

"I had a few smaller ones left over from a commission I was working on a while back; when I work for myself I usually just use my sketchbooks or the walls."

"You use the  _walls_?How do you get away with that in dorms?"

"What? Oh, I don't live in the dorms?"

"Well where do you live?" Kurt muttered; confused.

"I have a studio apartment a few blocks from here."

"You what? Never mind canvases, you have a studio? Just how are you paying for all this?" Blaine shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, looking down and away from Kurt. So many questions; Kurt's sudden inquisitiveness made him wary and vulnerable. He hated it. Hated that, after all this time, he couldn't help but somehow still let people have a hold over him.

 

"Urm. My parents decided it beneficial that I take permanent residence elsewhere seeing as though I'm no longer welcome at home." He could hear them now, business like tones echoing through his head like the silence that always filled the air in the house he never could call home. The bone deep disappointment and complete detachment radiating through him, chilling him to the core.

 

"I'm so sorry Blaine-" Kurt reached out to place a hand on top of Blaine's, but Blaine pulled his back "I didn't mean to pry, you don't-I'm sorry I-"

"It's fine." Blaine's tone was too sharp, too bitter causing him to wince slightly. "I'm sorry, I'm not used to this. You just-" Blaine was cut off abruptly by the sound of his phone ringing. It was Cooper,  _fuck_ ; he glanced at Kurt who gave him a brief nod looking worriedly at Blaine's phone.

 

_"Hello?"_

_"What? No."_

_"Coop, I'm busy."_

_"I already told you, I can't afford any."_

_"If you don't believe me then that's your choice."_

_"Yes okay fine I'll take her."_

_"NO. How could you even think for one second I would have that shit while she's around Coop? Jesus, I love Belle like she's my fucking own okay?"_

_"No seriously, bring her round in twenty."_

_"Tell her yes I will draw a unicorn for her."_

_"Yep."_

_"Yes. Bed by seven I KNOW."_

_"No problem. Bye."_

 

Blaine hung up on his brother and sighed, turning to Kurt who was wearing a confused expression. "You have to go?"

"I do. Cooper needs me to look after Arabella."

"Hmm, I understand. As long as we can reschedule?" Blaine paused for a second thinking. He wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to Kurt Hummel today.

"Come with me?" He asked hastily.

"What?"

"Help me with Arabella? Besides I'm pretty sure she's sick of me by now and by the looks of it you could draw a mean unicorn." Blaine smiled wryly, standing up and fixing Kurt with burning honey soaked eyes.

"I would love to spend my day drawing with Arabella and you, Blaine."

"Well then, it's decided. Get ready to meet a six year old who lusts for finger paint and lives entirely in her own little world."

"Sounds perfect."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

As soon as Blaine had the door to his apartment open a squealing mass of brown curls was running at him, subsequently attaching itself to his shins as he shuffled into the apartment with Kurt close behind. Blaine grunted slightly as he tried to make the short distance to the kitchen island to drop down his keys, giving up halfway and lifting little Arabella up into the air. His chest fluttered a little at both Belle's and Kurt's laughter filling his usually empty home, echoing off the ornate walls and filling the hollow space and himself with joy. Blaine felt his breath catch as he settled Arabella in his arms and turned to see Kurt looking at them, stunning eyes swimming with fondness and tenderness.

 

"Hey Belle?" Blaine stage whispered conspiratorially, looking at Kurt as he bobbed her back and forth on his hip "This beautiful man here is Kurt and he's a friend of mine so promise not to maul him to death ‘kay?" Blaine winked at Kurt as he blushed prettily. There was a loud cough from the middle of the living room and all three turned to look at a thoroughly harassed looking Cooper Anderson.

 

Cooper was dressed in simple black slacks and an un-tucked, powder blue shirt. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and glossy chestnut hair sticking every which way, he frowned at Blaine, eyes travelling minutely between him and the unexpected guest that had accompanied him.

 

"Hey Squirt" he said affecting a cheery tone.

"Don't call me that" Blaine said defensively.

"What took you so long?"

"I told you I was busy." Blaine continued "By the way Cooper, this is Kurt Kurt's my partner for this semester's piece for class."

"It's nice to meet you Kurt." Cooper beamed, smiling flirtatiously shaking Kurt's hand "I hope you can handle him," he jerked his head towards Blaine, "bit of a wild one."Blaine groaned at Cooper's attempt to talk him up, as Arabella giggled, squirming until he put her down.

 

"Anyway, I've got to go," Cooper called, Blaine following him to the door as Arabella ran up to her father. "I'll be back soon okay sweetheart? Be good for Uncle B and Mister Kurt and-" Cooper paused, looking up at Blaine and then quickly looking back at his daughter "You have my number if anything happens okay? I love you." He looked back up at Blaine's hurt expression, swallowing thickly and telling Arabella "Why don't you go say hey to Mister Kurt?" before turning back to Blaine as she scampered off.

 

Cooper stepped out of the door and turned to head down the hall until he heard Blaine's voice behind him.

"Why don't you trust me with her?" Blaine's voice was tight, his features stricken and angry.

 "I just can't trust you Blainey. Not completely. Not anymore." And Cooper left without another word. 


	4. Three

Blaine sat serenely at the piano, playing softly over the excited chatter of Kurt and Arabella drawing idly on the living room floor. Things hadn't felt so blissful in years, like he simply provided illustration to their fairy tales or the soundtrack to whatever epic adventure Arabella was enthusiastically acting out as Kurt looked on in amusement. It was family, it was comfort and familiarity and it was strange. He shouldn't be this calm, this happy to have a practical stranger playing childish games with his niece who was more of a daughter to him. They spent hours like that. Being silly and laughing giddily as Blaine made up little songs as the finale to every story Arabella managed to convince Kurt to co-star in.

 

Finger paint was banned when Belle got a little overzealous when decorating her unicorn picture and managed to land a tiny bright pink hand print on Kurt's sinfully tight grey designer jeans. Kurt looked momentarily horrified as he fully surveyed the damage but smiled widely as Blaine and Belle stumbled over apologies. Blaine blabbering through mortification and Arabella's eyes wet with tears as she mumbled out an "I'm vewy sorry I ruined your pretty clothes Mister Kurt" from where her face was buried in her uncle's shirt.

 

Eventually things settled down. Bed by seven and Kurt hovered outside the door to Blaine's bedroom when he settled her in, her small frame swamped by bedding. He watched and listened, transfixed as Blaine sat on the edge of the bed and told her a story he only half understood because of the intermittent sentences in Italian and others in pure giggling. When Arabella's eyes drifted close and Blaine's soft adoring smile looked fit to bursting Blaine brushed away stray curls with the back of his hand and kissed her forehead with a whispered "Ti amo, Arabella".

 

Later, Kurt and Blaine sat together in eerily comfortable silence, not a whispered word spoken and not a sound to be heard apart from Blaine's gentle melancholy melody caressing them both into a stifling sense of calm. Having this stunning man smile shyly at him as he sat delicately next to him on the piano bench seemed so dreamlike and unreal. As time wore on though, Blaine grew restless again, feeling the beginnings of that scratching need creep back under his skin. He continued playing, for Kurt's sake, a soft sigh escaping him as he came down from his superficial high. He wasn't sure, but it was possible it felt worse than the real thing.

 

"Is there anything you can't do?" Kurt whispered from beside him "Music, art, Italian, seduction."

"Cook, I'm a fucking terrible cook," Blaine said quietly, fingers still caressing the keys with expert ease as he held Kurt's gaze "and juggle, I can't juggle." Kurt giggled quietly leaning into Blaine's shoulder, the sound sweeter than any music Blaine had ever heard or made. They lapsed back into easy silence. It seemed so bizarre to Kurt that they had spent the day together with Arabella, and then just them, so intimately.

 

"This place is magical, Blaine." Kurt said in awe, taking in the decorated walls and floor for the thousandth time since he stepped through the door. Blaine simply shrugged and Kurt stared at him bemused. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Blaine muttered distractedly looking back at Kurt with guarded eyes.

"Shrug everything off, like you don't even care." Blaine stopped playing abruptly.

"I'm sorry?"

"This place is a paradise"

"Funny," Blaine laughs bitterly as he paces away from the piano "feels like a prison the majority of the time."

"Blaine I-"

"It's getting late, Kurt."

"Yeah- Yeah it is, maybe I should go..."

 

Kurt gathered his things and walked to the door casting a worried look at Blaine. He was shivering a little, head resting in his hands as he leant his elbows against the kitchen island. "You're welcome to stop by any time tomorrow if you wanna start this thing?" sounded Blaine's muffled voice as Kurt's hand landed on the doorknob.

 

"Sounds perfect" he whispered smiling tentatively, "goodnight Blaine."

The door clicked softly as it closed behind him.

"Goodnight Kurt"

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

With the apartment empty and silent once more Blaine wandered aimlessly through it, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. The feeling of being restricted within his own body overwhelming him like it had been fighting to all evening.

 

He dragged himself to the bathroom for a shower. Under the spray he prayed that the scorching water would wash away the itch. The hot water cascaded down over every inch of him, loosening knotted muscle as the steam cleansed all trains of thought. All except the one that lead to Kurt. His voice as he hummed along to Blaine's subtle melodies, his smile as he beamed and applauded Arabella, his face as he sketched and his body as it swayed to an imagined beat.

 

Blaine stumbled from the bathroom in a haze of sudden aching exhaustion, grabbing some sweats and a sheet from the hallway cupboard and heading towards the living room. He curled up by the floor to ceiling windows, staring out at the teeming streets of a night time Manhattan. His eyelids were heavy and every blink came accompanied by singular images: Kurt, Arabella, Cooper, his father, a trio of faceless men, a flawless expanse of skin, crystalline powder, a pink hand print, parted lips, blue eyes, a lone wolf.

 

Worlds swimming and colliding between imagined and real, Blaine slipped into a fitful sleep as he did every night; seeing and feeling everything in a realm between fancy and clarity. He slept with a weight in his chest and a name ghosting his lips.


	5. Four

The morning was cloudy and dark as Kurt made his way back to Blaine's apartment, the collar of his Burberry trench coat turned up against the falling rain. He rounded the corner to Blaine's building at around nine hoping it wasn't too early but he had said any time and Kurt was eager to get started. Kurt was endlessly enamoured with Blaine, he presented a mystery, handsome and charming when the mood struck but still a mystery none the less.

 

Kurt was trying to hold back around Blaine. Trying to stop himself from smiling too brightly or blushing too much or staring too intently, because to him it was painfully obvious just how much he cared already. There was only one thing that worried him and it was the glimpse of Blaine he'd seen late the previous night. The sadness in him, the way his tensed body shuddered like he was battling to hold himself together, the way his voice lowered and sharpened like a warning: stay away. The problem was the more Kurt saw the more captivated he became, tangled in a web of glimpses and stolen glances.

 

Rounding the corner and entering Blaine's building a stifling surge of excitement coursed through Kurt. He raced up the stairs, avoiding the rather shambolic looking elevator hanging in the foyer and scaling the steep steps, two, three at a time. A moment of composure and then Kurt knocked briskly on the door to apartment 4c only to have the door crack open slightly. Confused by the open door, Kurt stepped inside tentatively, a sudden compulsion to ensure nothing was wrong propelling him forward. The sight that greeted him as he stepped further into the apartment was unusual to say the least.

 

Spread eagled on the floor, tangled in a single sheet was a sound asleep Blaine Anderson. Kurt considered leaving, coming back later when Blaine was more awake but he couldn't seem to tear himself away. Blaine was lying on his back, bare muscled chest uncovered by the sheet, his curly hair falling every which way. The light cast him in solemn shadow as dark lashes fluttered intermittently across stubbled cheeks and succulent lips parted with every breath. It was when Blaine groaned, brow furrowing in his sleep that Kurt noticed a small piece of paper flutter to the floor. Curious, he tip toed quietly to Blaine's side, picking up what appeared to be a note.

 

**_Don't panic Squirt. Came to collect Belle earlier and didn't want to wake you. You need your sleep Blaine even if you're scared. Things won't get any better if you're dead on your feet. Don't work too hard. And have fun with your ‘friend' today, go get him tiger - love ya, Coop and Arabella_ **

 

With his suspicions about Blaine's lack of sleep confirmed, Kurt glanced again at Blaine's sleeping form. He was restless, twisting beneath the sheet a little, eyes moving rapidly behind his shut eyelids. Blaine was scared. Scared of what exactly? Deciding to bring up the subject later, Kurt read on, instantly regretting his undignified snort and giggle at the last line when Blaine bolted upright, scrambling away from him slightly, the sheet discarded and pooled at his feet.

 

"Fuck." Blaine's eyes were instantly alert and wild, roaming the apartment before coming to settle on Kurt. His chest rising and falling rapidly with his ragged breathing, he dragged trembling hands through his equally wild hair. "I- I'm so sorry," Kurt said frantically "that's twice now I didn't mean t-to wake you."

"It's fine," Blaine tried to reassure, wide eyed at Kurt's look of terror and concern, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have flipped out. I- everything's fine." He still looked terrified but he seemed more present than he had been in his first few waking moments.

 

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked tentatively.

"Yeah I-" Blaine shakily replies "I'm fine I just-"

"You don't sleep well?"

"No I- I dream a lot. They're pretty vivid. I wake up as tired as when I fell asleep."

"Have you tried sleeping pills at all?"

"No err that would be a pretty bad idea."

"Why would that be a bad-?"

"I'm gonna go and, ya know..." Blaine paused looking for a reason to leave or at least change the subject when he looked down at his attire "Shower; put some clothes on maybe, God I'm a mess sorry." He chuckled smiling softly at Kurt knelt on the floor. "So yeah, make yourself at home, um get what you need, set up and I'll be right back."

 

Blaine sprinted out the room, running towards the bathroom. Quick, he had to be quick Kurt was waiting. He glanced at himself in the mirror. Shit. Hair wild, eyes comically wide and a creepy looking grin; he looked fucking crazed. He was in and out of the shower in record time.

 

Kurt looked up from his things when the sound from the bathroom stopped abruptly, and was greeted with the sight of Blaine Anderson frozen halfway down the corridor to his bedroom, still dripping wet and only clad in a towel held firmly around his waist. Kurt flushed hot as he watched a droplet of water travel down Blaine's stubbled jaw and neck, dipping into his collar bone before travelling across the taut muscle of his chest and abs before disappearing into the top of the towel that hung low on his hips.

 

"Like what you see Hummel?" Blaine smirked, voice low and teasing.

"I thought you said you were going to put some clothes on?" Kurt threw back, bitch glare fixed firmly on Blaine's face as he avoided looking at the rest of him.

"Aww baby," Blaine cooed, eyes darkening at the sight of Kurt's rosy blush "but being semi naked with you could be so much fun."

"Put some clothes on Blaine."

"Aww but babe we could-"

"Clothes. Now, Anderson."

"Ugh fine." Blaine pouted and trudged off down the corridor towards the bedroom.

 

**.oO0Oo.**

 

Once he was appropriately dressed, Blaine sat cross-legged on the floor opposite Kurt. He watched for a little while as Kurt sketched idly, completely unaware of Blaine's scrutiny. He was fucking gorgeous and Blaine had to keep himself from groaning aloud as Kurt bit down on his lip in concentration, releasing it looking plump and slick with moisture. God fucking damn it he needed to get laid. He tried to stifle a growl as Kurt swiped his tongue over his bottom lip but was ridiculously unsuccessful.

 

Kurt looked up at the sound to see Blaine staring down at his hands, playing with a stick of charcoal. He looked anxious and on edge, slowly covering his fingertips in silvery grey smudges. Seeing Blaine so quiet and withdrawn, like he was holed up in his own mind made something clench painfully inside Kurt's chest.

 

"So" Kurt started cautiously "how do you wanna do this?"

"I don't mind" Blaine replied quietly.

"We should get to know each other a little, ask some questions."

"Of course" he sighed, resigned.  _Great, more questions_. "Shoot"


	6. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of alcohol abuse, drug use and brief allusions to explicit sex.

"Okay so I'll start out easy, where did you grow up?"

"Westerville, Ohio"

"You're kidding me"

"Errm no. Why would I be?"

"I grew up in Lima! Weird huh?"

"Yeah,  _weird_."

 

There were short bursts of conversation interspersed between complete focussed silences, during which they started on sketching out references for their final pieces. One of them would pause when they'd thought of something they wanted to ask the other, something they wanted to know to add greater detail to the images of each other they were beginning to create.

 

"My turn. Are you a virgin?"

"God this better not become 20 questions of sexual disposition Blaine."

"Aww come on. Are you gonna answer the question?" Blaine pouted.

"Yes"

"Yes, you're going to answer the question or yes you're a virgin?"

"Yes- well I mean I've done like  _stuff_ but technically I'm a virgin okay? Lame I know, but I just-" Kurt blushed profusely, embarrassed.

"Hey," Blaine said softly, touching Kurt's knee briefly "you're just waiting for the right person I get it."

"You've had sex with practically everyone in our Fine Art Class." Kurt spat back angrily but when he saw the look that momentarily flickered across Blaine's face he regretted it instantly.

 

"Ouch, well I guess I deserved that." Blaine shrugged casting his eyes back to his work, adding the subtle shadow underneath Kurt's jaw.

"No. No you didn't I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"No. I mean it's cool. I slept around, it's fine." Blaine shrugged. He knew it would be all anyone would ever care about. Who he'd fucked, how good he fucked, how completely obliterated he was during so it didn't really matter the morning after anyway.

 

"Why? Sorry for prying but why the Casanova of Fine Art class 2014? If you don't wanna talk about it then it's okay you don't have to tell me anything you aren't comfortable with and I won't judge you even if you do answer because-"

"Woah, woah, slow down," Blaine placated "I just- it's difficult to explain. I was out almost every night trying to avoid certain things. I was doing a lot of reckless stuff. In the clubs and bars around campus it just came with the territory. It wasn't worth much to me then, since my first experience in high school it had just lost its value. I just got off and got out. That was my motto for a long time."

 

"So-so what about now?"

"I- I don't-"

"You don't have to tell me anything." Kurt whispered, eyes wide and honest.

"I shouldn't" Blaine replied "but for some infuriating reason I want to."

"I- now I'm not out much at all. There are...  _reasons_  I was so rowdy and those reasons still remain but it started to lose its effect and Cooper had Belle and her mother left and he  _needed_  me." Blaine paused taking a deep shuddering breath. "I didn't have a job and I was practically starving; spending what I had on entry fees and booze and drugs and cigarettes and Christ what little I had left went on my classes. At that point Arabella and art were pretty much the only things I was living for."

 

Blaine sounded so angry with himself, so bitter that Kurt found himself struggling to hold back tears "Blaine I'm so sorry I-"

"Don't" Blaine snarled, walls crashing up around him "I shouldn't have said anything. I don't  _need_  your fucking pity."

"Blaine no wait please-" Kurt begged as Blaine walked towards the glass panes and pulled one aside to step onto the balcony. It slammed shut behind him with such force it could have shattered, just like the man himself.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Kurt watched for a while as Blaine stood resting against the balcony rail, staring out at the darkening sky. A cigarette hung limply from his delicately curled fingers and pale streams of smoke unfurled from his parted lips on every exhale. He was calming down, shoulders no longer tensed but as he took his last drag from the cigarette and turned as if to re enter the apartment he caught Kurt watching. Blaine did nothing but exhale the last of the smoke through his nose, throw the butt to the ground and turn back to recline on a lounger further along the balcony.

 

Eventually Blaine's eyelids grew heavy, trying valiantly not to close. As his breathing evened out, chest rising and falling steadily they finally fluttered shut, his long lashes fanning out across his cheeks. Kurt tore his eyes away from Blaine to continue working. He didn't want to leave Blaine, not like that, not after he'd revealed so much, so he decided to stay and work until Blaine had no choice but to come back inside and hear him out.

 

It wasn't long before it started. A high whimper sounded from beyond the glass panes and Kurt's head snapped up to see Blaine thrashing just as he had been when Kurt had first arrived but much more violently. Kurt watched, frozen for a horrifying moment as Blaine's breathing became ragged and his body shook with tremors. Within seconds Kurt was up and half way toward the balcony but he was too late.

 

Blaine was awake. Standing now but trembling, his eyes terrified and filling with tears as he clawed at his stomach with a pale hand. Before Kurt could get any closer Blaine had already thrown the glass panel open and staggered through the apartment toward the bathroom, slamming the door. Kurt was outside the door within seconds listening to the sounds of Blaine's laboured breathing and dry heaving through the glossy wood. There was a choked sob and Kurt was knocking frantically on the door.

 

" _Blaine_ " Kurt pleaded.

"Kurt" Blaine gasped "Just leave Kurt, okay?"

"No Blaine you're-"

 

Kurt pushed the door open and rushed to Blaine's side. He was shivering, skin damp and heart racing on the bathroom floor as he curled up against the cold, tiled wall. His lashes wet and his face sallow; he refused to look up.

 

"I don't need your pity Kurt. I just don't. I need-"

"What do you need Blaine?  _Please_  let me help."

"I just-"

"Anything Blaine. What do you need?"

 

There was a long pause filled only by the sound of Blaine's breathing and the violent shudders rippling through his body.

 

"Just- tell me they're gone."

"What?- Tell you who's gone?"

"Tommy," breath "Jake" breath "and- M-Max"

"Okay, okay shhh" Kurt pulled him gently into his arms. Blaine tensed suddenly before going limp and leaning heavily against him, staring up with pleading honeysuckle eyes.

 

"Tell me they're gone, tell me they're never coming back, tell me they won't-"

"They won't. I promise you Blaine. They're gone. They'll never hurt you again."

 

Blaine closed his eyes briefly before snapping them open again as if afraid of what he saw behind his closed eyelids. He looked so small, so frail. Kurt could feel part of his ribcage through Blaine's baggy long sleeved T-shirt as he clung to him trying to keep him from breaking in two in front of his very eyes. Blaine; who was sweet and cheeky and gentle and beautiful was so hurt and so delicate yet so strong and brave and passionate. They barely knew each other, but Kurt couldn't help but think he already knew so much about Blaine. He already loved so much about Blaine, but he despised what haunted him.

 

"I'm so  _tired_ , Kurt."

"I know" Kurt whispered into his hair "I know."


	7. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for drug use, one homophobic slur.

It was a week before Kurt returned to Blaine's apartment. After their session Blaine had asked Kurt to allow him some time to ‘recover' to which Kurt replied ‘"of course take as long as you need"' and ‘"if you ever need anything."' Blaine was grateful. Grateful that he had Kurt's number so he could call and hear his voice and learn more about him as he tried to put himself back together. Grateful that Kurt was so willing to be with him, so adamant that he was staying until Blaine regained some semblance of control and normality.

 

Once Blaine insisted, Kurt returned to Blaine's for their second session, but something was off. It was stiflingly hot in the apartment. All doors and windows off from the living room were closed and a sickly smell hung in the smokey and stagnant air. Amongst the usual mess Blaine sat, covered in paint, grin broad and pupils dilated.

 

Blaine was practically buzzing, his leg jiggling up and down incessantly as he watched Kurt sit across from him. Kurt eyed him warily, taking in his red rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks, his sweat damp curls sticking to his forehead. Blaine just stared back at him, smiling and trying to keep still and composed under Kurt's gaze but failed and continued to fidget and giggle like a small child. Finally Kurt sighed and began taking out his own materials. He'd come to his conclusion quickly enough.

 

"Hello Blaine" he said stiffly.

"Hello to you too beautiful" Blaine replied cheerfully, Kurt ignored it.

"And how are you?" Kurt pursed his lips, eyes trained on Blaine.

"I am fantastic!" He crowed, throwing himself backwards and star fishing out on the floor. His furtive eyes, uncoordinated arms and wriggling fingers traced smoke carried dust motes as they danced through the air.

 

"Oh of course you are." Kurt snapped.

"Hurmph?" Blaine replied, smiling dazedly up at the ceiling.

"You're high, Blaine." Kurt sounded angry.

"Mayyybe" Blaine giggled.

"On what?"

 

Blaine froze. He blinked several times, attempting to clear some of the fog clouding his mind. He frowned slightly. Kurt sounded so upset. He sounded angry and (here we go again) disappointed. Did he do that? He didn't like Kurt upset. He honestly didn't think that just a little bit, just a little to take the edge off, would be that much of an issue.

 

"It's just weed Kurt" Blaine muttered rolling over towards Kurt. "We're students, half our class smokes pot for shits and giggles on a regular basis."

"Not  _you_ ," Kurt said, looking concernedly down at Blaine's slightly shivering form " _you_  don't do weed for ‘shits and giggles', I can tell. So why, Blaine?"

"Because it feels good."

"Bullshit, if you wanted just to ‘feel good' you would still be fucking a different guy every night."

 

"Kurt" Blaine's eyes flashed, his voice low and sharp.

"Why?" Blaine fixed Kurt with an unwavering gaze as he glared up at him; his dark and bloodshot eyes flashing dangerously with panic before turning much more sinister.

 

"As a means of dealing with unresolved trauma and a temporary attempt at escapism." Blaine laughed bitterly, the sound jarring and so very, very wrong coming from sweet, cheeky and gentle Blaine Anderson.

 

"Blaine I-"

"Let's start with the escapism shall we?" Blaine pronounced in an unnervingly jovial tone. Every word sounding like it was being recited, like he'd been told so many times before. "I don't sleep and most of the time, when I do, it doesn't go too well. So when it's time I get up, go to work to pay the bills for the studio apartment my parents signed me a lease for because my mother's affections lie with her social circles and her twenty-something PA and my father wants nothing to do with his son because he's too busy fucking his secretary at the law firm and he can't stand having a queer in the house."

 

"Blaine, I had no idea, I-"

"Then I go to class, which I also pay for because art is a ridiculous career choice and it will get you no where and, then I do stale and suffocating commissions for unimaginative bourgeoisie types that give me barely anything despite the time and money I spent on the pieces in the first place, and then I have a niece who I absolutely adore but have to look after a little more than necessary because I also have a brother that needs me to help keep  _him_  from falling apart despite the fact that he takes every opportunity that arises to tell me about how much of a disappointment I am, to all of them."

 

Kurt's face was damp when Blaine looked up, still boiling with anger, yet he was more subdued. He lay with his arms crossed panting, exhausted and ashamed.

"Don't you dare cry. I've told you, I don't need your fucking pity Kurt."

"I don't- It's not pity Blaine, I just want t-"

"You just want to what Kurt?" Blaine was quiet now, a little lifeless. "Help me? Fix it all? Not gonna happen. I'm a little more than just damaged goods sweetheart."

 

He reached out and thumbed away a few of Kurt's tears, smiling crookedly and wearily at how simplistically beautiful he was. "I'm sorry, I- you ask so many questions. Of course you deserved answers but not like that. I'm a little out of practise with the whole honesty thing. I'm sorry beautiful." he whispered looking into stormy grey irises. "It's okay." Kurt whispered back, but they both knew it wasn't.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Hours later they found themselves in their most focussed and productive session yet considering the fact that it was still only their second. They each had at least five sketches and around another two or three outlined. Eventually they spoke again, but only about Kurt. About his life in high school, the bullying which made Blaine shift and his hands clench painfully down on a piece of charcoal, snapping it in two. They talked about his loving family, his loud best friend and Broadway baby Rachel who happened to be married to his step-brother and his own Broadway dreams and how it all changed once he arrived in New York and discovered his passion for art.

 

It was hard at first, to fall into a rhythm. For a long time Kurt was still on edge and shaky from Blaine's outburst and Blaine was trying to handle being shocked back to reality. He struggled to battle through the haze and actually concentrate on something.

 

The ice was officially broken when Blaine heard Kurt giggle beside him. Kurt was smiling down at Blaine's sketchbook with a hand pressed over his mouth to try and muffle the sound. Blaine looked down confused; on the page was a messily outlined sketch of Kurt with wings.

 

"Why are you laughing?" he asked, bemused.

"Honey, you were high and drew me with wings." Kurt said softly as Blaine picked up his sketch book, tracing the fine lines, his mind swept with ideas of sudden clarity.

"Hmm" he uttered thoughtfully, "I think I just found the concept for my final piece."

"You're going to draw me with wings? Because your intoxicated mind somehow threw that imagery at you?" Kurt spluttered.

 

"Well yeah," he shrugged "you're free spirited, superior, strong and beautiful. Angelic symbolism seems to demonstrate those qualities well don't you think?"

"Angelic?" Kurt whispered, looking up to find Blaine smiling at him softly, his honeyed eyes crinkling slightly.

"Nothing less, angelo mio."


	8. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol consumption.

The third session turned out to be anything but. It began with Blaine profusely apologising for his behaviour the few nights prior via text and suggesting that he make it up to Kurt instead of spending the entirety of their Friday evening holed up with only each other and their art for company.

 

**From: Kurt H**

**Well, it all depends on what you have in mind ;)**

 

_To: Kurt H_

_I can think of something that might be worth your while ;) My place. 9 PM. Dress to_ _impress._

 

**From: Kurt H**

**Blaine Oliver Leonardo Anderson! I always dress to impress!**

_To: Kurt H_

_Oh shit the pretentious full name. Fine dress to dance can you do that?_

 

**From: Kurt H**

**Of course I can. I'll see you tonight. I'm looking forward to it :)**

_To: Kurt H_

_See you later._

 

**From: Kurt H**

**You're going to behave yourself tonight though right?**

_To: Kurt H_

_I can't make any promises on that babe ;)_

**.oOoOo.**

 

At 9PM sharp Kurt let himself into Blaine's apartment, kicked the door shut behind him and then froze. Blaine was dancing across his apartment or at least that's what it looked like to Kurt. Blaine moved fluidly around the living room's central wall, shirtless, a cigarette hanging precariously from his bottom lip, a bottle in his left hand and a charcoal pencil clutched in his right, flying across the surface of the wall with impeccable precision.

 

Kurt moved silently towards the kitchen island, jumping up to perch on the surface as he watched Blaine work. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched Blaine move effortlessly around his workspace, expertly dodging wayward materials and bending in ridiculous yet elegant arcs to glance at the references he'd scattered on various surrounding surfaces. Every now and again he'd take a step back to the centre of the room, tuck the pencil behind his ear, and take a drag from the cigarette and then a drink from the bottle in such smooth succession that it was obviously routine.

 

Kurt had to squint from his position in the kitchen to see what exactly Blaine was working on. The moment he caught a good view he felt his breath catch in his throat causing Blaine to turn at the sound and tilt his head at Kurt who continued to stare at the central wall. Even in its early stages the work was beautiful. The outline of what looked like an elfin princess sat proudly on the back wall, surrounded by a glade of exotic looking flowers. The princess exuded elegance and strength whilst looking effortlessly peacefully as long pale fingers created intricate ripples in a crystalline lagoon.

 

"Hi" came Blaine's voice a lot closer than Kurt expected. Kurt looked round to see Blaine leaning against the island offering him the bottle of what happened to be rum. "You should drink up. Get the party started and all that."

 

Blaine watched hungrily as Kurt took the bottle and brought it to his lips, tipping his head back, his neck stretched taut. He wasn't entirely sure that the night he'd had planned was something that Kurt would enjoy, though the moment he'd set eyes on him he knew the boy could dance and who could blame him if he wanted to see the show.

 

"So..." Kurt hummed and licked his lips "what's your plan tonight Anderson?"

"Well I was thinking of heading to The Mist and consuming an immeasurable amount of alcohol, I don't know about you." Blaine replied with a smirk. "Maybe get a little down and dirty who knows. I'd like to see you up on one of the podiums though fuck."

 

Kurt flushed hotly as Blaine's eyes trailed down his body, unabashedly checking him out, before wandering over to the piano to pull on a shirt and pick up his jacket. Kurt had opted to wear the most sinfully tight silver skinny jeans in existence paired with knee high white boots and a tight white button down shirt that left practically nothing to the imagination whereas Blaine was wearing a reasonably tight pair of black jeans with grey combat boots and a tight ripped white t-shirt that all but sculpted itself to his torso.

 

Blaine grabbed his phone and keys before shrugging on his leather jacket in the entryway. He ushered Kurt out of the door and out of the building with a hand on the small of his back. A roguish smirk graced his lips as he let his hand slip to Kurt's ass as they stepped out onto the street. Kurt squeaked and stepped to the side.

 

"Dancing and inebriation are not excuses for feeling me up." Kurt huffed, his ears tinting pink. Blaine simply continued to smirk as he lit up another cigarette, his dark eyes fixed on Kurt as he took a deep drag, full lips parting into a small ring as he exhaled smoothly. Kurt watched on transfixed. He used to think smoking was entirely disgusting until he met Blaine Anderson, who just made it look so ridiculously hot that he found himself curious.

 

Blaine took the cigarette from his lips and tapped the ash out on to the pavement tilting his head to look at Kurt appraisingly. "You wanna try it baby?" He asked noticing Kurt's eyes widen every time he took a lungful of smoke.

"I-uh yeah okay" Kurt replied nervously as Blaine stepped up into his space.

"We'll shotgun okay?" he said quietly, hot smokey breath ghosting across the pale boy's cheekbones. Blaine raised a hand to Kurt's chin tilting it up so they were level before moving it to cup the side of his neck, his thumb brushing at the jaw line.

 

"When I exhale you inhale okay? Hold it for a few seconds then breathe out got it?" Kurt nodded minutely as Blaine leant his torso back slightly to inhale another lungful of smoke. When he turned back his eyes were visibly darker. The small slivers of his irises that were visible were a rich caramel colour. He crowded close, Kurt's heart pounding as their lips came within an inch of each other. Their lips parted and Blaine tilted his to the side as he and Kurt breathed in synchronisation.

 

It burnt at first as the smoke slid down his throat and filled his lungs and Kurt started to panic slightly until he felt Blaine's fingertips glide across his throat and Adam's apple. He released the smoke out in a slightly stuttering stream but without incident. Kurt smiled hesitantly as Blaine took another drag before realising that Blaine's hand had some how made it into his back pocket. He squeezed gently and Kurt was quick to disentangle himself from the hold which earned him a pout from Blaine.

 

"You Blaine Anderson are a-"

"Tease? Sexy motherfucker?"

"-an asshole, oh my god dancing, inebriation and smoking are not excuses for feeling me up." Kurt squeaked once more, his cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink that made Blaine smile.

"Don't worry," Blaine replied, looping an arm possessively around Kurt's waist, throwing the butt of his cigarette to the ground and steering them both towards The Mist "after we're done, I won't be needing any excuses."


	9. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for alcohol consumption and smut.  
> A/N: The song I imagine Blaine dancing to at first is Secret by Maroon 5 and his lullaby type thing is I Swear this Time I Mean It by Mayday Parade.

Upon arriving at The Mist Blaine bought and handed Kurt some kind of concoction that smelt only vaguely alcoholic before downing his own (smelling considerably stronger) beverage and disappearing into the crowd. Kurt began to panic a little. Abandoned. Swamped in the continuous thrum of the bass, stifled by the accumulative body heat and slick with a thin layer of sweat he wasn't enjoying himself at all. That was until Blaine resurfaced.

 

Blaine appeared at the front of the crowd moving sinuously to the sultry rhythm trickling through the air like warm syrup. His eyes were closed feeling with every fibre of his being, as his body twisted and swayed with the waves of anonymous bodies, the movement pulsing like the ebb and flow of the sensual atmosphere filling the club itself.

 

It wasn't dirty, not quite. Despite the languorous rippling of his torso and the torturous arc of his swivelling hips against, sweat drenched grappling strangers Blaine exuded a raw kind of sexuality that could only be described as elegant and voluptuous. Honestly, Kurt was entranced, hypnotised by Blaine Anderson and his every move, every touch, every uttered word and whisper.

 

It was harder (pun definitely intended) to watch Blaine dance than Kurt would have ever imagined and oh dear lord did he begin to imagine. The songs began to transition into tracks with heavier bass and a faster pace and every nuance of him intensified as the grind of his hips became a little dirtier, a little rougher against every man that plastered themselves to his front.

 

Blaine returned to the bar, and in turn Kurt, frequently. Asking breathlessly, his eyes wide and shining a constant stream of "are you okay?" and "what would you like to drink?" and "dance with me, please pretty please?" Kurt drank, and he watched and by about the seventh heated request he relented. Mind fuzzy and inhibitions dwindling as a result of Blaine's reverent gaze and a fairly large amount of alcohol, Kurt's resolve broke to Blaine's quiet plea of "just one song baby. Please?" and allowed himself to be dazedly lead by the hand to the centre of the dance floor.

 

Once there the song changed to something lascivious and aching. Kurt shot a half hearted glare at Blaine who simply shrugged and grinned before spinning Kurt around and holding onto his hips as Kurt faced away from him. Blaine kept his distance as he watched Kurt hesitate, swaying only slightly to the music, nervous and jittery. He wanted so badly for Kurt to just let go so, he told him just that. Moving in closer as the rhythm intensified and whispering in his ear to just let go, to feel, to  _want_.

 

Kurt instantly grew in confidence, draping an arm around Blaine's neck, tangling his long slender fingers in his curls. Blaine stumbled slightly until their bodies were flush together, letting out a shaky breath against the pale column of Kurt's neck. Kurt tugged on the silky curls lightly and smiled salaciously as he felt Blaine's answering growl vibrate in his chest and his calloused hands slip under his shirt to grip his hips tighter. The heat of the skin on skin contact coursed through them as they moved together, entwined and buzzing from the awareness of just how close to the other they were, feeling every inch, every shift and shiver.

 

The song came to an abrupt end and all too soon Kurt was pulling away, Blaine's hands sliding from his waist as he stumbled away towards the bar, leaving Blaine struggling for breath and belatedly flowing.

 

Blaine froze as he came to the front of the crowd. There at the bar was Kurt leaning away from a towering, pale man with dark brown eyes, close to black and shaggy dirty blonde hair. Blaine stepped forward, landing a kiss to Kurt's temple and leaning over the bar between the two to signal the bartender for a drink.

 

"Well, well, well if it isn't Blaine Anderson. What brings you back here Blainey, out looking for some ass are we?" The man sneered, glancing at Kurt out the corner of his eye.

"What do you want Evan?" Blaine snarled, avoiding eye contact.

"Why we were simply having a delightful little chat, weren't we princess?" Evan leered, reaching out to touch Kurt's arm before Blaine stood abruptly and slapped it away. "Don't-" Blaine warned "what are you even doing here? From what I hear business is pretty slow for you since Katie got busted and Kieran checked in."

 

Evan's eyes flashed in anger before becoming steely and cold once more. "All the more reason to be on the look out for new patrons, and perhaps even returning old ones." He sniggered, tucking a stray curl behind Blaine's ear causing him to jerk away from him and wrap an arm around Kurt protectively.

 

"Not gonna happen, Evan." Blaine replied, slowly tugging Kurt away and turning them back to the crowd. "Aww why's that Blainey? Because you've got yourself a boyfriend now? That worked out well for you last time didn't it?"

 

"I haven't got anything." Blaine said fiercely "Goodbye Evan."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

" _Kuuurt_ , you have got to stop doing that unless you want to sleep in the hallway."

"Bed." Kurt mumbled his mouth attached to the juncture of Blaine's neck and shoulder, mouthing wetly and sloppily as Blaine struggled to open the door to his apartment. "Then stop" Blaine replied distractedly. "Nuh uh" was all he received in reply. It took seven attempts for Blaine to even get the key in the lock thanks to Kurt, clad in Blaine's leather jacket attempting to distract Blaine with all inappropriate means possible.

 

When eventually the door swung open Blaine promptly found himself staggering back against it as it closed. Kurt had pressed in tight, his hands frantically ruffling Blaine's hair as he all but drooled across his collarbone. Blaine had to stop himself from trembling as the dampness cooled in the cold air that was quickly rising in temperature. Kurt was making little breathy, desperate noises as he licked and bit and sucked at the base of Blaine's throat, his hands yanking at Blaine's hair to get better access.

 

Blaine let out a long choked moan and Kurt's eyes drifted back up to Blaine's, staring at him, eyes glazed over and unfocused. Blaine couldn't take his eyes off of Kurt's parted lips, slick, cherry red and swollen from his ministrations. He wanted nothing more than to just take his bottom lip between his teeth and summon more of those beautiful, sinful, desperate noises but he couldn't.

 

He was jolted back to reality when Kurt's thigh slid between his legs, dragging deliciously across his half hard cock, Kurt's own hard on grinding in to his hip. Kurt whined at the pressure, the sound immediately jolting Blaine into action. He grabbed hold of Kurt's hips, pushed him back and held him at arms length.

 

Kurt looked startled, before stepping back and pouting at Blaine "Don't you want me Bl-Blaine" he slurred. Blaine had to laugh.

"That is so far from the truth you have no idea." Kurt just stared at him confusedly. "Oh baby you are so far gone, c'mon" Blaine chuckled tugging Kurt towards his bedroom. "That's right," Kurt mumbled "take me to bed Mr Blah-Blaine Olivia Leonard Andershnaps."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

It took around an hour to actually get Kurt to bed. The first thirty minutes were spent trying to explain that no Blaine was not going to ‘get sexy' with Kurt. The ten minutes after that were spent with Blaine handing Kurt clothes to sleep in but with Kurt deciding that he should do a strip tease to convince Blaine to ‘get sexy' with him, throughout which Blaine stood studiously with his eyes firmly closed. He didn't even peak... much. Ten minutes after that saw Blaine trying to control Kurt's limbs enough in order to get the right limbs in the right place instead of Kurt trying to force his head through an arm hole and another ten minutes that yes he had to go to sleep and no Blaine wasn't going to sleep with him.

 

Once comfortably tucked in however, Kurt became drowsy and mumbled and snuffled as he closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against the pillow, vaguely registering somewhere that it smelt like Blaine.

 

"Sing for me, pretty please Mr Lover man?"

"Of course."

 

_If luck is on my side tonight,_

_my clumsy tongue will make it right_ __  
And risk the touch it isn't much but it's enough  
To form imaginary lines,

 _forget your scars we'll forget mine_ __  
The hours change so fast  
Oh God please make this last  
  
Cause I'm outdated, overrated, morning seems so far away  
  
So I'll sing a melody

_and hope to god he's listening sleeping softly while I sing_ _  
And I'll be your memories,_

_your lullaby for all the times,_

_hoping that my voice could get it right_

When his song came to a whispered end, Blaine smiled; planting a kiss on the end of Kurt's nose and another on Kurt's forehead as he gently brushed back his hair with shaking fingertips.

 

"Buonanotte, Kurt" He whispered softly, his voice barely audible. "Ti amo, angelo mio."


	10. Nine

The next morning Kurt woke up in someone else's clothes and in someone else's bed and almost smacked his head on the bedpost in his haste to get out of it. Hectic thoughts of what have I done and who with raced through is head as he dragged on his clothes which thankfully, were neatly folded and placed on the desk in the corner of the room. Which was odd. Surely if he was in for a drunken night of rampant sex with a random stranger neither of them would've had the courtesy to treat designer labels with the respect they deserved?

 

It was then that Kurt noticed the leather jacket slung over the back of a rickety looking desk chair and the faint smell of paint, cigarette smoke, sandal wood and cinnamon. That. That was Blaine. Everything came flooding back. The drinks, dismantled inhibitions and hazy thoughts. The dancing, rough hands and hot breath. The hallway, distractions and desperation. The apartment, deliciously hot skin and a firm body against his own. A sweet tenderness and a lullaby. All Blaine.

 

Kurt glanced at the clock on one ramshackle bedside table, it read 8.32 AM. Class started at nine and he really needed to get going. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of turning up to class in clothes that he'd clearly worn the night before but then he thought of Blaine. Had he already left? Was he still asleep?

 

Kurt decided he better leave anyway and tip toed his way down the hall, peering cautiously around the corner before proceeding. Kurt was halfway across the hardwood floor toward the front door before a voice stopped him.

 

"Doesn't Mr Lover man aka Blaine Olivia Leonard Andershnaps at least get a kiss goodbye?" Blaine teased lightly, his voice quiet in the morning calm. He was huddled in a corner, watching the rain through the glass panes. Serene and at ease in a worn and oversized emerald green sweater that slipped off his shoulders, the sleeves of which covered hands that grasped a mug of what Kurt assumed was coffee. Blaine absently curled his toes in the material at the bottom of his too long grey slacks as he traced the racing water droplets with tired eyes.

 

Kurt didn't answer, just watched as Blaine seemed to get lost in himself for a while, glowing in the pale morning sunlight and achingly beautiful. He looked warm despite the occasional shiver and looked as close to content as Kurt had seen him so far.

 

"Are you feeling alright?" Blaine asked, voice still quiet and soft as he turned to look up at Kurt with tea stained eyes.

"I- yes. I'm so sorry about that. Thank you f-for last night though, it was very sweet of you." Kurt stammered, flushing red in embarrassment as he was reminded of the night prior. "You're welcome." He replied with a small half smile and half hearted wink "It was my pleasure."

 

Kurt stared down at his hands "Are you not going to class today?" He asked.

"No I'm not, I've got to err sort some things out. But tell me if I miss anything essential okay?"

"Alright," Kurt hesitated "as long as you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

 

"Okay."

"Alright."

Kurt crossed the apartment to kneel by Blaine's side. His eyes widened as Kurt leant down and planted a soft, innocent kiss to Blaine's dry and slightly parted lips.

"Goodbye, Blaine."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Blaine spent the entire day in his apartment, too tired and strung out to step outside and face a world that just kept on turning. Everything was so difficult again. Evan just appearing and advancing on Kurt like a hyena cornering its prey sent Blaine back over the edge, clinging on with battered hands and jagged fingernails, desperately trying to haul himself back up. Evan left him wary and tense and so fucking scared again.

 

He watched the rain fall and the sky clear and fade into a beautiful indigo. Things had slowed to a crawl, like he was seeing the world through a shivering hue, like a smoke screen or from underwater. The hours passed and he felt the world closing in again, with nothing but the rain and Kurt's parting gift to relieve some of its oppression.

 

He'd said it, the words he vowed he'd never utter again. He'd meant them, always had. Blaine didn't say things that were meaningful if he didn't really mean them.  _Ti amo, Kurt_. Yet that was all it was to Kurt surely, just vibrations, just words, just a different language to him that he'd never understand. Blaine was just an enigma, Kurt's pretty puzzle to solve and slot back together, nothing more.

 

And that's just what Kurt did, slotted him back together, but everything felt out of place; jostled around and stashed somewhere entirely different. An ache now accompanied the clawing in his chest, a tingle that joined with his itching flesh and a spark entwined with the dull throb in his veins. Kurt contradicted everything Blaine had made of himself, waged a war on his mindset until his very being was battling itself.

 

Confused and anxious, with a cluttered mind and heavy eyelids he lay awake another night. Thoughts of Kurt clouded him like a child's daydreams as he tried to stay awake and stay away from what awaited him in sleep. So pathetic, he couldn't help but think. The easy exhaustion and how he just broke in front of him. In front of strong, beautiful, brave Kurt.

 

Blaine didn't have courage. He ran. Dreading shutting his eyes in case they came back to make him feel Jake's clammy hands, Tommy's steel capped boots and Max's class ring. He ran and hid and fucked everything up. Kurt didn't want that. Kurt didn't need that in his life no matter how much he made Blaine need him in what little remained of his.

 

So Blaine let himself drift again, an artist succumbing to fantasy. Shrouding himself in illusions of a life, a real life with Kurt.


	11. Ten

Class was uneventful for Kurt, and left him with nothing to report back to Blaine. He spent the two hour lecture with thoughts of him and the night prior, drawing wide golden eyes and broad, rough hands. Blaine's rapidly fluctuating behaviour left Kurt's head spinning. He was frustrated and confused, and agonised over every word and gesture.

 

Everything was so difficult when Kurt had to analyse every encounter they had in case he missed something important. Kurt cared about Blaine, even though Blaine didn't seem to think so. Blaine didn't seem to think anyone cared. Kurt worried, and he panicked. Was Blaine getting enough to eat? Had he slept last night? Is he safe, does he have enough money to pay the bills? He looks weak, is he ill?

 

Kurt just wanted to be able to do something. Be closer to Blaine, prop him up when the weight of everything became too much, but every time he came close he was stopped in his tracks. Expressive eyes became cold and void. Warm smiles and light touches dissipated into nothingness. And then came the distractions, the lewd comments and the heated gaze and the cocky smirk. Sure, the teasing and the playfulness was all Blaine but the rest was about as transparent as the glass panes in his apartment. Kurt could see right through him.

 

It was clear to Kurt that Blaine's persona was merely a diversion. Something to occupy and irk Kurt while he tried to hide what was really going on, something he felt a lot less comfortable sharing with anyone. The crude behaviour was his go to stance when he was expected to actually function close to effectively.

 

Kurt thought back to the day they'd met, how timid Blaine was and the beautiful drawing of the wolf pack and the lone wolf. The lone wolf. Kurt spent the remainder of his time in class finally sketching with purpose.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

By the time class had finished Kurt's stomach had twisted itself into knots and he didn't even notice being approached by someone previously in the third row down.

 

"Hey Kurt!" came a cheery voice from his left. Kurt snapped his head up to lock eyes on a boy he'd liked for a while, at least since before Blaine had claimed all of his attention. His name was Zach. He had short auburn hair and vivid blue, almost grey eyes. Kurt had developed some what of a small crush when they had been paired for an in class project during the previous semester and had remained distant friends ever since.

 

"H-hey Zach!" Kurt stuttered.

"So how's the project going?" Zach asked, taking a seat close at Kurt's side.

"Good. Blaine's crazily talented so-"

"Blaine? Blaine Anderson?"

"Yeah?"

 

Kurt looked at Zach with irritation. Anything he had to say about Blaine had been said before, either by the gossip mongers in class or self deprecatingly by Blaine himself. They didn't even know half of what it must be like to live the way Blaine did; to live with what Blaine lived with.

 

"Be careful around Blaine. Yeah he's charming but I hear he's into some pretty heavy shit."

"I'll be careful." Kurt said sharply. Why was Zach even telling him this?

"I'm just saying because I've kinda been wanting to charm you myself." Zach added with a sultry smile.

"I- What?" Kurt stammered as Zach looked back at him sheepishly.

"I was err wondering if maybe you'd like to go out sometime, like on a date?"

" _Oh_ "

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Monday evening and Blaine was sprawled out on his stomach across his living room floor, eye lids drooping as his pencil dragged clumsily across the page in front of him. Kurt hadn't called or text so he assumed he hadn't missed anything important. Blaine considered calling Kurt at least every few hours, but he had no reason to other than just to hear his voice.

 

Over the weekend Blaine found himself thinking more and more about what Kurt's life was like. Does he go out to coffee with Rachel in the mornings? Does he have lazy days in bed watching mindless daytime television? Do his friends compliment him on his outfit choices daily? Does he call his family often? Does he have a boyfriend? He knew it was ridiculous to be so curious, but he wanted to know everything there was to know about Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, artiste and fashionista extraordinaire. A selfish want it seemed to him, seeing as he was willing to divulge so little about his own life in return.

 

So he was comfortable and at ease, in his half asleep state, revelling in the little things he did know. The shifting colours of his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His smile, bright and broad and almost blinding. And when he scrunched up his nose in distaste or when he laughed. Each aspect and facet of him made that itch and the burning in his veins a little easier to bare and withhold.

 

He scratched lazily at the paper outlining feather upon feather until he heard his phone ringing from the bedroom. Hauling himself up, he trailed out of the living room to answer the call, assuming it was probably just Cooper calling to check in or ask him to watch Arabella for a little while during the week. He flopped down onto the bed.

 

"Hello?" Blaine muttered wearily as he pressed accept and bought the phone to his ear.

"Hey," a melodic voice answered "it's Kurt."

"Hey Kurt." Blaine sighed softly "What's up?"

"You sound tired." Replied Kurt sympathetically, noticing the low rumbling lilt of Blaine's speech and his slow even breaths.

"‘m a bit."

"Then I should let you rest, you need it, I'll call you tomorrow." He said shakily.

"No!" Came Blaine's quick reply "I mean, it's fine. What can I do for you?" There was a long pause before Kurt took a deep breath and continued.

 

"I was calling about Thursday actually..."

"Yeah?"

"I have a date!" Kurt let out in a rush, breath whooshing out of him. Blaine inhaled sharply and hesitated "That's okay right? I'm sorry I'm missing our forth-" Blaine's voice was quiet when he interrupted.

"Kurt of course it's fine" Blaine cursed himself for his small hitch in breath.

"I- okay I just thought-because-"

 

"Kurt, Kurt," Blaine interrupted again after he'd managed to get his voice under control, trying for a teasing tone "just tell me. Who's the lucky guy?"

"Zach? From class?"

"Zach huh? Rings a bell. Is he hot?"

"BLAAINE!"

"Well is he? Because if he is you should totally get on that."

"Ugh you're unbelievable."

"He is, isn't he? I bet he is  _smokin'._ "

" _smokin'?_  I hate you."

"No you don't. GET SOME HUMMEL!"

"I'M HANGING UP NOW"

"GET IT!"

"BYE!"

 

The line went dead and Blaine let his phone drop to the floor before sinking exhausted into his mattress. With one of his questions answered everything Blaine had noticed lost its soothing affect like the regaining of feeling after being under an anaesthetic. He was disappointed and devastated that those eyes and that smile and that laugh were no longer going to be meant for him in the slightest. They were meant for Zach or someone probably equally as handsome and debonair or whatever. Kurt would never be meant for Blaine.


	12. Eleven

"Kurt honestly just stop moving" Blaine chastised lightly as Kurt kept wiggling his head in his giddy excitement. "Really you keep moving your head around so now your eyes are really close together and you just look cross eyed." He couldn't help but laugh as Kurt lunged forward and whacked him on the arm when he saw the botched sketch.

 

Kurt vowed to spend the weekend with Blaine after cancelling their session on Thursday to go out to dinner with Zach. On a date. Kurt had bounded into Blaine's apartment late Saturday afternoon and immediately knocked the breath out of him, throwing his arms around his shoulders and pulling him in tight. He knew Kurt was gushing about Zach and their time together but he couldn't bring himself to care. Kurt was there and he was happy, so Blaine was too.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll stay still I promise!" Kurt replied, sitting as still as a statue by the glass panes. The weak orange sun provided the perfect lighting. It made Kurt's skin glow and the most beautiful shadows form and flicker at the base of his throat and just under the left side of his jaw. Blaine had drawn Kurt so many times it felt like he had every inch of his face memorised. If Blaine was being honest most of the time Blaine only made Kurt sit for him so he could stare unabashedly at him under the pretence that it was ‘for the art' and not just to ogle him.

 

Blaine really made Kurt sit for him a lot so when Kurt made them switch late on the Sunday evening, he really wasn't surprised. He was, however, confused. Kurt had told him all about the concept for his piece and it didn't actually include Blaine in any shape or form at all. It involved Blaine's wolf, the one currently hiding out on the pages of a beaten up sketchbook. A sketchbook that Blaine had dug out from the bottom of his closet and entrusted to Kurt when he'd waxed poetic about Blaine's little wolf and how it was the embodiment of Blaine's ‘independent, strong and wild nature'.

 

So Blaine didn't really understand why Kurt wanted to draw him considering his final piece was going to consist of a wolf and nothing else but still, Kurt had insisted that it was necessary so that wolf Blaine still held some vague resemblance to human Blaine. Unfortunately for Kurt, sitting still for extended periods of time was incredibly difficult for Blaine. He was fidgety and he certainly didn't take sitting for Kurt very seriously.

 

For example, every time Kurt would look up Blaine was wearing a different expression, ranging from regular expressions like sad or contemplative to some ridiculous faces such as the time Kurt looked up to find Blaine with his eyes crossed and his tongue lolling out. It was at around about that point when Kurt gave up, huffing indignantly as a laugh burst its way out of Blaine, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

 

They decided to forgo working for a while and decided to just enjoy each others company. Blaine was eternally distracted, as he always was around Kurt. His eyes constantly slipping to watch Kurt's lips move as he spoke. He'd kissed him, a little peck, chaste and unassuming but god did Blaine crave more, so much more than just a light brush of lips.

 

"Voglio baciarti così tanto." Blaine whispered, blushing a little when Kurt paused and raised an eyebrow at him before continuing.

"I was- surprised. I just didn't think anyone was interested ya know? No one's ever really actually liked me, before Zach. Actually wanted to be my boyfriend."

"Mi piaci. Ti basterebbe schioccare le dita e ti darei tutto me stesso." Blaine knew Kurt couldn't understand him but it was a relief to tell him the truth aloud even if it was in another language.

"Okay so if we're gonna continue with this conversation the way it is I'm going to need a translation." Blaine just smiled sheepishly and shook his head.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Eventually their conversation lulled and Blaine had something he had been dying to ask.

"Kurt," he began awkwardly "would it be okay if maybe I sketched your back?"

"Hmm?"

"You know for the wings? Actually it's okay, I don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable. Just forget I said any-" Blaine stammered out.

"It's fine Blaine, of course" Kurt replied, rolling his eyes at him.

"I-Really? I mean are you sure?"

"Yes Blaine. So do you want me to take my shirt off or?"

"Please" Blaine's voice was slightly higher pitched and breathy and he coughed loudly to try and disguise the sound.

 

Blaine watched raptly as Kurt turned away from him and began unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off so it was eventually pooled at his hips. Blaine stared at every new inch of pale skin that was revealed to him, marvelling at the flawless expanse of well defined muscle and the light dusting of freckles across Kurt's shoulders.

 

"You okay there Blaine?" Kurt asked after quite a while of Blaine's mindless gaping.

"Bene" Blaine replied distracted.

"English Blaine!"

"Fine! Fine! Just fine!"

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Blaine spent the rest of Sunday evening trying to memorise every line of Kurt's torso. He was slim and lean and Blaine's entire body ached with the knowledge that Kurt wasn't his to hold or touch. Blaine couldn't fathom how Kurt was even real; his angel theory had never seemed so true. Blaine felt so inadequate now he'd had a glimpse at Kurt. His stomach seemed a little rounder even though Blaine actually had a little more muscle on him than Kurt did. He felt bulky and awkward compared to Kurt's elegant and slender build.

 

Blaine knew he was good looking, handsome and alluring but Kurt was something else. He was almost otherworldly, so beautiful it fucking hurt, bashful and a little innocent sometimes and well Blaine didn't even know that was a kink of his until Kurt but just the abstract idea was fucking hot.

 

By the time Kurt put his shirt back on and left, giving his excuses about how he was meeting Zach in the morning for coffee and that he needed to be up early, Blaine was crazily turned on and felt a little guilty, a little sleazy and a lot jealous.


	13. Twelve

He tries not to think about it. He tries not to think about how he's probably making him smile his smile, Blaine's smile, that toothy grin shining with happiness and mischief. He tries not to think about how he's probably making him laugh like Blaine does, the sound so sweet and clear as a bell. He tries not to think about how he's probably making his body shiver and skin tingle, like the way Blaine does with just the touch of his fingertips.

 

He tries not to think about it but he thinks about Kurt, like he always seems to nowadays. Blaine did the only thing he knew how to. He worked. Dragging his largest canvas and easel out into the living room, ripping out dozens of sketches and pining them up on the apartment's dividing wall and scattering materials across the floor; he worked.

 

He moved fluidly through his work space, sketching first. The sharp angle of his jaw and the soft curve of his hip all falling into place on canvas like he belonged there, like Kurt was already a work of art. He was consumed. By the time he moved on to the pastel detailing, his mind was flooded with images and a simple want. What it would be like to feel the heat that radiated from that heady blush, what it would be like to mark and to feel that flawless pale skin, what it would be like to kiss those lips parted by breathy sighs.

 

On into the night he worked, eyes pupil blown and a rich caramel as the lines between fantasy and reality began to blur and merge on the canvas in front of him. His hair, forearms and abdomen were streaked with subdued, powdery colour as he took a step back when dawn hit.

 

The final piece was hard to look at, so overtly intimate and sensual that it felt almost like an invasion to Blaine. It was as if Blaine had broken his trust by creating something that captured Kurt's raw charm and sexuality. He was thrumming with its intensity, skin set alight as that tell tale spark raced up his spine. Blaine forced himself to really look at him for a few moments before he simply couldn't any longer.

 

He lay himself out on the floor, his eyes slipping closed as he let that want and that spark wash over him, carrying him away to a place filled with nothing but pale skin, full lips and his own pleasure. A part of him was telling him that it was wrong. He couldn't deny the thrill that accompanied the thought of being the first. The first to kiss every smooth expanse of his skin, the first to witness him falling apart so completely, breathless whimpers of  _‘so good', ‘more', ‘please', and ‘don't stop',_ the first to devour and worship every inch of him.

 

Nails raked down his chest and across his abs, fingers stroking deliberately across the waistband of his boxers as his other hand thumbed at his jaw line. He lost himself in it. Kurt spread out across his sheets, writhing in ecstasy beneath him. He brought a hand to the back of his head, burying it in his hair and gripping the curls tightly as he bit his lip. He gasped for his next breath as he palmed himself roughly through his boxers, midnight blue eyes pleading with him from behind his eyelids as breathy moans and whimpers filled the air. He could feel the heat edging its way through his body from his abdomen, making his skin slick with sweat as he thrust upwards searching for more,  _God please more_.

 

Mewls of pleasure echoing in his mind grew louder and he couldn't hold back any longer, slipping a hand down and around himself. He'd been hard for so long, his hand dry and rough and perfect as he stroked his cock, teasing himself to images of kissing, licking, and sucking, biting, supple milky skin everywhere imaginable across the planes of the body beneath him. His breathing quickened as his thumb caught the head of his dick, spreading pre-cum down his shaft, his blood simmering, his skin tightening as shuddering waves of pleasure flooded through him.

 

With every image came a fresh wave of desperation, his hips thrusting up hard into the circle of his fist with every hitching breath. Hard and fast it was almost painful but so fucking good. Heat coiled quickly in his lower abdomen. Set on fire by a hand's possessive grip on his hip, the rock of their bodies as they chased that white light, closer and closer. Blaine let out a loud wrecked moan as the image of Kurt's stretched neck as he threw his head back in pure bliss clouded his senses, beautiful wanton sounds spilling from his perfectly parted lips; closer and closer.

 

Piercing blue eyes opened and fixed on him as his body shuddered. The ghost of his name escaping from kiss swollen lips and that was all it took. Blaine came hard with a cry that resounded endlessly through the desolate apartment, thrusting eagerly upwards to hold on to the earth shattering feeling, white spots appearing across his field of vision as his eyes snapped open, chasing his ecstasy for a while longer. His cum covered his chest and stomach in white streaks, a stark contrast to his dark and shadowed skin.

 

Once his body had stilled he simply laid there for a while. His eyesight was blurry and he couldn't get a hold of his limbs. A weight started to settle on him: guilt, longing and anger. This had to be the last time. It hurt too much to know that when his illusion shattered he was left with nothing, just like always.

 

He wasn't worth a quarter of what Kurt was. Kurt didn't need him. Kurt didn't even want him. He had Zach. So he vowed to never think of Kurt Hummel again, easier said than done when not thinking about Kurt practically meant not thinking at all. However, Blaine had an all too familiar method that just about did the trick.


	14. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for language, derogatory terms, allusions to sexual extortion and abuse.

Blaine is silent and stony when Kurt turns up at his apartment after a week's absence with little to no contact. He'd quietly asked if he could sketch Kurt's torso again, unable to help himself and Kurt complied with a bright smile, completely oblivious. He chattered on about how Zach might be stopping round to pick him up and that they were going to see some movie and honestly Blaine didn't give a shit. He was tired and his skin was prickling and he just couldn't seem to get a handle on himself.

 

His work was awful. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking long enough to draw a single smooth line. The more he tried the worse it got, until small tremors were racking his entire body. When his pencil slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor everything stopped.

 

Kurt was silent and his eyes were on Blaine in an instant, curious at first and then terrified. Blaine's head was hung low, fists gripping his sketchbook so tightly that his knuckles were white. He felt like he couldn't breathe, everything was blurry and he just couldn't stop shaking. He felt a hand hesitantly touch his shoulder and he flinched away, violently. Kurt was scrambling towards him, too fast and too loud leaving Blaine desperate to get away.

 

"Blaine? Blaine! What's wrong? Please tell me! I can-" Kurt was frantic.

"It's fine please don't-" Blaine managed to choke out.

"IT IS NOT FINE BLAINE. PLEASE, IT HURTS SEEING YOU LIKE THIS. JUST TELL ME!"

"NO. JUST STOP!" Blaine all but screamed, getting to his feet hastily and staring at Kurt on the brink of tears.

 

"Why are you even here anymore Kurt? It's not like you really care anyway."

"Blaine, that's not true I do. I-" Kurt was on his feet taking a step closer but Blaine just got further away.

"No YOU DON'T." Blaine's voice echoed around the dark apartment "You're too busy fucking gushing over Zach to realise what's right in front of you! Because Zach is perfect and he's wonderful and respectable and has his life in order and-"

 

"IT'S BEGINNING TO SOUND LIKE YOU'RE JUST FUCKING JEALOUS BLAINE!" Kurt screamed.

"YEAH WELL MAYBE I FUCKING AM!"

 

He was so angry he couldn't see. He felt sick and everything was swimming in and out of focus from the onslaught of tears that just wouldn't stop. Kurt had pushed him over that edge, pushed much too far. And down Blaine fell.

"Blaine? Wha?"

"You don't want to be with me Kurt so why don't you just leave and go to Zach right now? Switch partners whatever."

"I don't want to switch partners."

"Oh yeah that's right I forgot." Blaine threw back sharply. "Wouldn't want to overstep would you? I forgot you hadn't even fucked yet, I feel sorry for the guy!"

 

Blaine snapped his mouth shut the second the words left it. He instantly regretted them. Desperately wanted to take them back, say he was sorry, and beg for forgiveness. But what's done is done and those words were heavy ammunition. An all out attack and everything was falling apart. Everything he'd built, every hope and promise just disappeared, destroyed by Kurt's next nine little words.

 

"Well at least I'm not some pretty boy slut!" Kurt hated himself for those words when Blaine just broke. A gut wrenching sob ripped itself from Blaine's throat but before he could even think about taking it all back, fixing it and gathering Blaine in his arms there was a knock at the door.

 

Blaine was there throwing the door open so harshly that the door bounced off the wall. His blood ran cold when he recognised who stood in his doorway.

 

"Anderson."

"No..." Blaine choked out shaking his head.

"Zach?" Kurt called from the living room, crying and hastily buttoning his shirt.

"No no no no NO" Blaine screeched.

 

"Hey babe" Zach called face impassive as he looked over at Kurt "you ready to go?"

"Yeah" Kurt sniffled. Blaine tried to reach out to Kurt as he tucked himself into Zach's side but Zach slapped his arm away. Kurt wouldn't even look him in the eye, tears still trickling down his cheeks. Blaine felt like he was nothing, discarded and desperate he fell collapsed and Kurt was tugging himself viciously out of Zach's hold and gathering Blaine up, trying to  _fix it, fix it, fix it_.

 

Blaine's head snapped up when he felt Kurt's arms wrap around him, pleading hazel eyes staring intently into icy blue.

"Please," he begged "don't go with him he's-"

"He's not safe. I knew- I knew I knew him from somewhere, please."

"Please don't go. Don't leave..."

 

"What the hell d'you think you're doing!" Zach's voice booms as Blaine clutched at Kurt, anywhere and everywhere. "Kurt come here, NOW!" Kurt ran shaking hands through Blaine's hair sobbing ‘sorry, I'm so sorry' as he stood and left both Blaine and Zach alone, ignoring Zach and walking straight down the hall and to the stairway.

 

"I thought you would've learnt your lesson by now Blaine," Zach snarled "after all getting on your knees for Jake never did make him love you like you wanted him to did it? And now look at you, oh how history repeats itself. All that and you still got the shit kicked out of you. Pathetic. And trying to play the hero now by trying to keep dear little Kurtie away from it all? You always were greedy Blaine."

 

Zach stood looming over him and Blaine daren't look up. "You can't have him Blainers." He sneered, crouching down and trying to force Blaine to look at him "Evan's called dibs and you know what he's like. You're an old pro at his preferred method of payment. He'd like princess to be a patron too. He says hi by the way, Evan I mean. And by the looks of you I'll say he can expect a visit mighty soon huh pretty boy?"

 

Blaine was silent. Broken on his living room floor as Zach forced him to remember. Remember everything he'd spent so long forgetting and avoiding and trying to escape. Head hung low and trembling.

 

_He never answers. Never speaks, even if it means more bruises to hide. He just stills, waiting for the next blow, the next touch, the next insult, all the while praying that he'll survive again or maybe, that this time, he won't._


	15. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for drug use, derogatory terms, non-con and sexual extortion.

Caged again, so trapped he could feel his skin burning, crawling with it. Tan forearms were marred by angry red streaks, gouges trying to tear the itch right out of the tissue. He could feel the cold sweat dripping from his pores. He could feel the accelerated beat of his heart, an erratic thrum, wild and dangerous. So scared, so fucking scared and guilty. He'd made a promise, a promise he wasn't sure he could keep for much longer.

 

It was just too hard; his vision swimming in and out of focus as he shook, barely managing to stay upright as he stumbled toward the kitchen. His stomach was twisting painfully as he fumbled for his wallet and made his way to the front door. Body lurching and mind cluttered and spinning he hesitated.  _I promised. But I can't._

His resolve shattered, he yanked open the door, palms slipping on the handle and staggered out, down the hall, down the stairs, out onto the street, turn left, first block, second block, turn right and the third door down. Unsteady feet carried him there, body propelled by that itch, that need to just make it stop, make it all just go away. His knock was barely there but Evan answered anyway, backlit by the bare light bulb hanging like a noose from the ceiling of his dingy backstreet place of business.

 

"You came back huh? Knew you would, pretty boy."

Blaine refused to look at him. He just thrust out a pale hand, clutching what little money he had. He didn't have enough for the amount he really needed but he took all he could get. He turned to leave but Evan grabbed his wrist before he could step back from the door frame.

 

"You know if you're looking for more pretty boy I'm sure you're familiar with our alternative method of payment," Blaine barely has time to flinch at the familiar name before he's slammed up against the door frame, Evan's rough and clammy hands coming to push painfully at his ribs from underneath his baggy sweater, "I'm sure you must be tight-" he crowded close and Blaine snapped his head to the side trying to escape the acrid stench of his breath against his cheek, "on cash."

 

Blaine felt bile clawing up his throat as he trembled in Evan's grasp. He felt sick. Violently so when he caught himself so desperate he considered getting on his knees for his fix. But he resisted, even if he had slipped he hadn't fallen that low, not yet, not again. He whispered his plea for release, his plea not to be used again and thanked a God he didn't believe in when Evan let go, and pushed him back onto the street with a loud "offer still stands for any future transactions Blainey." as the door was slammed shut behind him.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

He didn't know how he made it back without collapsing, in fact he barely remembered the journey back to his apartment at all but he went straight for the kitchen. He prepped what he had with shaking hands, desperation overpowering every other thought and feeling. Finally, finally he let his poison course through his veins, enveloping him in the familiar bitter sweet nothingness. He slid to the tiled kitchen floor, eyes shut tight as he waited for a twinge of relief. But it never came.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

_He heard the door to the locker room slam shut but he didn't flinch. He doesn't, not anymore. He stares blankly ahead, feels him pressing up behind him, dirtied hands pulling at his hips and narrow waist. He can smell stale sweat and cigarette smoke, even whiskey on his breath. He's asked a question, so vile he doesn't answer. Slam._

_"Are you ready for me pretty boy? Such a pretty little slut."_

_He never answers. Never speaks, even if it means more bruises to hide. He just stills, waiting for the next blow, the next touch, the next insult, all the while praying that he'll survive again or maybe, that this time, he won't. He wishes he was anywhere but there, wishes that he had even a iota of control. But right now he doesn't. Not as Jake bites at his neck and thrusts against him as he just stands there, face bruised and cut from where it's repeatedly smashed against the locker vents._

_When he's forced to turn around and ordered to his knees Blaine just blinks. He feels like he's seconds from breaking, small and so completely destroyed at only sixteen. He starts to feel tears trickling over his bloodied cheeks as he's pushed forcefully to the floor, crying out as his knees hit the hard tile with an agonizing crunch._

_"Jake, please." He begs._

_"Don't."_

_"You said you-" He can't say the words anymore, wonders if he ever will again._

_"I gave you so much and now you-"_

_"And now I get to take." Blaine hangs his head as he hears Jake unzip his pants and drop them to just below the knee. Blaine cries, but doesn't resist further than his pleading. Even the begging stops when he's reminded why he's here, on his knees, on the filthy locker room floor. "I can hand you over to Tommy and Max if you'd prefer pretty boy, maybe a trip to the hospital will help you rethink things."_

_Blaine's head is jerked up roughly, clumsy fingers clenching around his jaw until it's forced painfully open. "You look so good with your lips wrapped round my cock Blainey, such a pretty boy."  Then Jake just uses him. Just takes. Everything. Every shred of Blaine that may have been left disappears; shatters._

_When it's over Jake puts himself back together and leaves without giving Blaine a second glance. Blaine's alone, choking on sobs as he scrambles to a toilet to vomit. He's shaking and crying and he can't get rid of the taste. He hates himself, hates that he can't defend himself against them. He hates that he's weak. He hates that he's broken._


	16. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for drug use, alcohol abuse and non-con.

Kurt didn't go with Zach that night; he just went home, to his own apartment, unable to face either of them. Kurt didn't sleep, sick to his stomach from what he knew he'd done, to Blaine of all people. He'd taken something he knew Blaine hated himself for and used it against him. Kurt spent hours pacing his apartment, striding to the door every now and again to just go and make sure Blaine was okay but for the most part he was still overcome by his own hurt and his own frustration. When morning hit the pull resonating in his chest that had been present since that first day finally overpowered everything and he was on the streets in a heartbeat, desperate to get to Blaine.

 

As soon as Kurt stepped foot in the apartment the next morning he knew, in that instant, that leaving was the worst mistake he had ever made. Blaine was huddled on the kitchen floor, conscious but lost, his golden eyes puffy and red raw. His arms lay lifeless at his sides, track marks and angry scratches visible on the pale skin of his forearms. A broken shoelace and some burnt aluminium foil were discarded on the kitchen island.

 

Kurt took a step toward Blaine but froze when he saw him flinch again. His hazel eyes looking straight at him, glazed and unfocussed.

 

"Please don't come any closer if you're going to leave for good this time." Blaine whispered, tugging the sleeves of his jumper down and trying to sit up a little straighter. The fallout was always hard to deal with. Disappointment and guilt that he gave in again, made even worse by the fact that Kurt had come back, it wasn't unwanted that's for sure Blaine wanted him to stay but it was certainly unexpected.

 

"I understand." Blaine muttered when Kurt didn't answer, closing his eyes and trying desperately to keep himself there, rather than aimlessly drifting. "I can see why you wouldn't want to be here" quiet so quiet it was barely audible "...with me"

 

"Blaine," Kurt started vehemently "I'm not leaving again, God it tore me apart- is tearing me apart seeing you hurt so much. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." With tears clouding his vision Kurt tentatively moved towards Blaine, sinking to the floor and holding him tightly as he trembled.

 

"I was going to tell you," Blaine mumbled as he burrowed into Kurt's arms "I was going to tell you everything eventually." Finally he felt safe. With Kurt nothing could truly hurt him. The relief was almost freeing until the panic set in, the desperation to make everything okay overwhelming and the hours stretched on filled with tears and whispered apologies, pleas of "don't go back to him" and "don't ever believe you're worthless". Promises of "I'll tell you about Zach, I'll tell you everything" or "I'll get better, I swear" and "I'm never saying goodbye to you".

 

As dusk settled Blaine was bordering on hysterical and Kurt could no longer console him on his own. He peppered kisses across his cheeks, his jaw, his forehead, his nose, his eyelids and finally his lips but Blaine only ever stilled long enough to feel each momentary brush of lips to his icy skin. Kurt rocked him gently in his arms to try and lull him into some semblance of serenity but it only made Blaine cling to him tighter. Terrified of losing Blaine again, Kurt realised he needed help, and from someone Blaine could trust.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Cooper Anderson had been heartbroken three times in his life. The first was the moment he had discovered how his baby brother had been hospitalised, the second was when he found a goodbye note from his wife late one Sunday evening and the third was when he received a phone call from one Kurt Hummel, sobbing and scared out of his mind, desperately trying to calm his relapsed baby brother.

 

It was late and he had to beg his next door neighbour to babysit Arabella but he was on his way to Blaine's in a matter of minutes. Once he arrived he threw open the door and his heart stopped. Kurt was clutching a distraught Blaine in his arms, crying and holding on like both their lives depended on it. The moment Kurt saw Cooper he was pleading with him. "Please help me make it stop, please make it stop please" Kurt sobbed as Cooper strode toward them wrapping himself around them both and hoping that he could stop their worlds from falling apart. He tugged Blaine into his lap; cradling him to his chest like he'd done so many times before when Blaine was sixteen and begging him like a toddler to make mum and dad even just acknowledge what had happened, to make the nightmares stop, to keep the monsters at bay.

 

Cooper stroked Blaine's matted hair soothingly shushing him gently and Kurt kept hold of Blaine's hands, grounding him and whispering about how beautiful Blaine was, how brave, how strong. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning when Blaine began to settle, swaying slightly to a song Kurt started to hum under his breath. As his eye's started to slide shut Blaine whispered something only Cooper could hear before drifting off, completely and finally exhausted.

 

Blaine was surprisingly difficult to lift even with his small frame and obvious loss of weight but Kurt still carried him to his bed. Blaine nestled under the sheets and was still sleeping soundly by the time Kurt left, leaving the bedroom door wide open, just in case and joining Cooper.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

"I can see right through you." Cooper said abruptly, leaning on the kitchen island, now cleared of any paraphernalia. "It was clear as day since the moment I met you that you care about him,  _really care_ , but then you pulled that little stunt and something broke him again."

 

"I don't expect you to like me anymore Cooper," Kurt replied solemnly "you should both hate me."

"I don't hate you, and clearly neither does Blaine. In fact far from it. It's true he's been struggling with everything like he always has, but you made it bearable and unfortunately you made him love you in the process." Cooper smiled slightly at Kurt as he drew in a shaky breath, tears falling anew. "When he let it slip he was so scared."

 

"Wh- why? Why would he be scared?" Kurt stuttered in reply "I never wanted to hurt him believe me."

"Blaine's only ever loved one person besides yourself and it destroyed him. The bastard is the very reason my baby brother is the way he is now. It's that and Zach that did this not you."

 

Kurt paused trying to take everything in. No matter what Cooper said he knew he was still partly to blame. It was the whole reason Kurt never admitted how he felt in the first place; he didn't want to eventually add to Blaine's hurt, but denying it entirely devastated him. It broke Kurt to know that because Blaine loved him, he'd come so close to destroying him.

 

"Blaine wants me to tell you" Cooper said, interrupting Kurt's reverie "about Zach. He wants you to understand why he hates the thought of you with him, that he's not just jealous. He wants me to tell you so you'll believe him." Kurt noticed that Cooper was shaking slightly, so he nodded resigning himself to staying silent.

 

"When Blaine first came to New York it was to escape, High school and all that occurred back in Ohio, which he's waiting to tell you about himself, had changed him, and made him fragile and so much more vulnerable. He wanted a new start, a chance to rebuild himself so like any other college freshman he made friends and with those friends came the partying. Molly Baker managed to convince him to go with her to some underground party. I don't know how but Blaine ended up alone and that's when Zach turned up. He was young and drinking to drown everything out and he never stood a chance."

 

"What- What happened?" Kurt muttered desperately. Dreading Coopers next words. Cooper was crying, shaking as if simply telling the story caused him unimaginable pain. Blaine was his baby brother and Kurt's well, Kurt loved him and knowing that he'd been so tormented was unbearable.

 

"Zach kept handing him drinks and by the time he was pushed against an alley wall he was in no position to refuse. Blaine was naïve and confused and it wasn't long until they fell into a pattern, meeting every Friday and repeating the cycle until one day in the club's back room Zach introduced him to Evan."

 

"NO!" Kurt shouted "Evan is- and Zach!"

 

"Zach is what they call a lure, Kurt. He reeled Blaine in, got him hooked and took off, reaping countless rewards from Evan himself. Zach acts as Evan's scout of sorts, seeking out vulnerable and lost people that Evan can sell to. It just so happens that they thought Blaine to be the perfect customer."

 

"Oh my God" Kurt choked out "I can't believe I was so fucking stupid, so blind that-"

"Zach is good at his job Kurt. He needs to appear charming and respectable to get what he wants. But now I think you understand why Blaine was terrified when he realised Zach and Evan had set their sights on you. He can't stand having the people he loves even remotely close to his past in case something comes back and hurts them too."

 

Kurt and Cooper were still until Kurt moved to hug Cooper, thanking him for everything before moving toward the door.

 

"You can't leave again," Cooper whispered "he needs you."

"I need him to be safe. I need to see Zach."


	17. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence, drug use and some non-con elements.

Three hours and a phone call later Kurt sat anxiously in his apartment awaiting the arrival of the man that he hated and would rather never see again. But, if he was going to do this, protect Blaine, help Blaine, love Blaine he needed to make sure Zach, and the likes of him, were far away from them, so they were never hurt by them again. A part of him thought it foolish, trying to play the hero to make up for all his short comings but despite it all he felt a need to confront Zach in retaliation to his deceit.

 

He was blisteringly angry. He was angry that he'd been misled, distracted from what truly needed his undivided attention, diverted from just giving in to what he was feeling for Blaine and giving in to Blaine himself. He was angry that Blaine had been tormented by Zach. Used, abused and manipulated into living life from fix to fix simply because there was nothing else he could do about it all anymore.

 

He thought about everything he knew about Blaine and about how it by no means amounted to a little. It didn't matter so much that he hadn't learnt about Zach and Evan until recently. It didn't matter so much that he still didn't know the truth behind the nightmares or the flinches or Jake, Max and Tommy. What mattered was that Kurt knew Blaine well enough to not need the answers and Blaine knew Kurt well enough to give them to him anyway.

 

Kurt knew everything he needed to know. Blaine can't sit still for any period of time longer than five minutes. Blaine pouts when he's denied something he wants. Blaine hates it when people say something and mean something entirely different. Blaine likes dogs and he had a Beagle called Flash when he lived back in Ohio. Blaine hates lying. Blaine loves coffee with cinnamon and almond biscotti. He bites his lip and rubs his neck when he's nervous. He needs to touch if someone isn't okay. He likes to tease but he hates waiting. He shuts down if someone points out his flaws. He'll sneeze when presented with paprika. He'll moan if you pull his hair. He'll laugh at knock knock jokes and when tickled. He smiles honestly, tries hard and loves deeply.

 

There was an abrupt pounding at the door and Kurt stood, legs shaky and palms sweating, before walking unsteadily toward the door. The moment the lock clicked and Kurt had the door unlocked the door was wrenched open sending him stumbling back. Zach stood, leaning against the door frame, rubbing his gums with his tongue, his eyes wild, red rimmed and blood shot.

 

Kurt had seen that look before but with Blaine it never looked as dangerous as Zach appeared. In seconds Kurt registered what must have been the cause but it was seconds too late. Before he had time to even flinch, Zach slammed his back into a bookshelf, the shelves biting painfully at his back as he cried out and tried to rip himself from Zach's grasp. With books and knick knacks crashing to the ground Zach's fingers dug into Kurt's shoulders, marring the pale skin underneath his shirt with bruises.

 

"So you're actually sweet on pretty boy huh?" Zach snarled, his face inches from Kurt's "I should've known, he was all you ever fucking talked about anyway." Kurt attempted to tear himself away again but to no avail. "Nuh uh uh princess you wanted to talk so talk, I'm guessing you already know all about Blaine's pathetic past?" Kurt froze, looking away guiltily and saying nothing.

 

"Oh so he hasn't told you about how Jake fucked with him," Zach grabbed Kurt's chin forcing him to look at him "and when I say fucked I mean it, princess. Jake made him such the perfect little slut."

 

"Stop" Kurt said firmly "s-stop, just leave him alone, leave us alone!"

"Oh no can do sweetheart, Blaine's no use to us anymore but you on the other hand-" Zach trailed off, bringing his hand down Kurt's neck and ripping at the buttons of his shirt before pushing his hips forward roughly. His scream was muffled by a clammy hand as Zach's glazed eyes roamed over him with predatory hunger and his hips snapped forward a second time.

 

By the third Kurt was thrashing back violently against Zach causing him to stagger back. Kurt lunged at him, pushing him towards the door frantically and forcefully before his fist connected with Zach's jaw and his knee to his groin. Zach doubled over in the doorway, heaving and clutching his bruising jaw. Kurt slammed the door, locked and bolted it before sliding down to the floor.

 

After a while he was banging on the door again and Kurt tried to wait it out shaking and horrified until he snapped and screamed at Zach through the wood. Threatening to make sure he never receives any ‘business' ever again and ensure Evan knew it was all Zach's fault that the police raided their backstreet hide out. He screamed and screamed until his voice was hoarse and he was sure that Zach wasn't ever coming back.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

An hour or so past and Kurt hadn't moved. He cried silently both relieved and terrified after Zach's departure. On one hand he was so glad that he could return to Blaine triumphant and certain that they could build on what they had in peace without the temptation and distraction. On the other Kurt was shaken. If he hadn't had been able to fight against Zach he couldn't bare to think of what he might've done. His blood ran cold when he thought about the blank malevolent gleam in Zach's steely grey eyes, or the sharp, painful feel of him as he ground against his hip. An icy hand took a grip of his heart and throat as he thought of him, cool sweat soaked skin, swamping him, trapping him, so excruciatingly different from Blaine.

 

Blaine was warm and gentle and strong without being overtly overpowering. He was sweet and sensual and exactly what Kurt needed. Who he'd always needed. Kurt stood, showered and dressed methodically, thinking adamantly and only about Blaine's arms and how he was dying to be in them.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

It was the middle of the night when Kurt left for Blaine's once more, needing to be with him as soon as possible. Something akin to hysteria was beginning to rise up through his chest and try as he might he couldn't suppress it much longer. A part of him wondered if he should burden himself on Blaine, he had been through so much in the past twenty four hours but Kurt was selfish and needed him by his side despite even the late hour.

 

Before he even realised it he was opening the door to Blaine's apartment. Standing deflated in the entryway his eyes travelled frantically around the vast, dark living room before landing on Blaine at the grand piano. Their eyes locked and ocean blues met honeyed hazel. Blaine was with him in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms tightly around him as Kurt sagged and clutched at him, his head buried in Blaine's neck. Blaine kissed his wet cheeks and combed his agile fingers through his damp and tangled hair, whispering reverent sweet nothings all the while.

 

This, they thought. This was worth it all.


	18. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for threats, homophobic slurs, bullying, violence, contemplated suicide, sexual extortion and non-con.

Kurt didn't cry as he told Blaine about his run in with Zach, he'd decided he'd cried enough. Blaine on the other hand was both touched and livid. The fact that someone was willing to protect him and care for him and do anything to make him happy was indescribably alien to him but oh so welcome. It was all he'd ever wanted and more. Kurt was all he'd ever wanted, and the fact that Blaine had this angel in his arms, that Kurt was with him,  _him_  of all people, made him so giddy he was practically euphoric.

 

But the reality of what had happened, what Zach had  _done_ , hit so close to home that it left Blaine reeling. He held Kurt tightly to him as he whispered his story into his shirt and Blaine practically vibrated with rage. Images of beautiful, strong Kurt, his Kurt, terrified and helpless as he struggled against Zach who thought Kurt was his to touch, his to taste and his to  _claim_ ,and  _take_ against his will. Blaine was shaken to the core by his protectiveness of Kurt and the urge to just wrap him up and take him far away so no one could touch them or hurt them was overwhelming. Before the attempt even registered, he was at the door, vision swimming and feeling light headed because he'd moved too fast, much too fast.

 

Kurt had to pry his hand from the door handle, Blaine all the while swaying dangerously on his feet, looking pale and muttering things like ‘never again', ‘biggest mistake you ever made', ‘no-one', ‘angelo  _mio_ ' and a litany of various Italian profanities, as well as something that vaguely resembled ‘I'll fucking tear you limb from limb'. He admitted defeat and tugged Kurt back into his arms as Cooper entered the living room and, along with Kurt, managed to convince him that he wasn't going to be defending anyone's honour looking and feeling like death warmed up.

 

Cooper left to collect Arabella only after a lot of reassurance from Kurt and Blaine that they were going to be okay, that they'd look after each other. As the door to the apartment closed they stood in the entryway hands linked together in the darkness, and silence smoothed over them like a balm, soothing wounds both new and old.

 

There are moments in life when there is so much to be said that it can all be translated into silence. Not a hushed word or grave whisper is required when you're in love. Of course verbal communication is required eventually, is vital in making everything seem real, solid and concrete. But when it comes to comfort or forgiveness no words need be exchanged to make you whole again.

 

Kurt shifted in the cold and dark of Blaine's apartment and pressed his body close, Kurt's arms winding around Blaine's neck as his came to rest at Kurt's waist. The darkness enveloped them but there was still just enough light, just enough so they could see each other, raw and unadorned. Then Kurt was leaning in and their lips met, eyes slipping closed and clinging to one another that much tighter. It was slow and powerful, their lips moving slick and soft and achingly sweet. It was shy and so painfully careful that Blaine just wanted to cry and tell Kurt that it was okay now, that they were letting go. There were no cacophony of fireworks or explosions of light only a feeling of closeness and calm, like threads being woven together and binds being strengthened, a connection forged in iron and a devotion to togetherness.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Through the dark they made it to Blaine's bedroom. Curled together, fully clothed and under the covers to escape the bitter air. Blaine's body fit perfectly into Kurt's side, his warm breath puffing out in sighs against Kurt's neck from his place nestled between his shoulder and clavicle. Kurt combed his fingers through Blaine's unruly curls smiling at Blaine's expression of utter bliss and the soft contented noises resonating from the back of his throat.

 

"You don't have to be scared of telling me, you know. You're not gonna lose me because of this. I'm not leaving you." Kurt whispered into Blaine's curls. He sighed through his nose, readying himself for that final step. "I'm not scared of that, I-I trust you. I'm just... scared of reliving it."

"But you won't be. You'll be here, with art and me, like always."

"I'm pretty sure those two things are the same-" Blaine replied with a watery smile.

"Flattery will get you everywhere Mr Anderson."

"Well you're already in my bed so-"

"Blaine!"

"Woah okay sorry!"

"Just please Blaine, for us."

 

Blaine took a deep breath, planting a soft kiss to the skin of Kurt's shoulder and snuggling closer, steeling himself to tell his story.

 

"The bullying started early," Blaine started shakily "at first it was just the regular stuff, stupid names, the odd pinch or scuff of dirt, making fun of my hair or that I spent most of my time alone at the drawing table. I was a shy kid and I tried so hard but that just made it worse. When I got older it's like they could just tell. Everything escalated from then on." Blaine paused fighting back tears.

 

"What happened?" Kurt spoke softly, gently prompting Blaine to carry on, to battle through.

 

"There was name calling, fag, homo, and queer, behind my back, spat in my face. The older boys, especially Tommy and Max, they were the worst. They'd knock me to the ground and step on my hands so I couldn't play any instruments for weeks at a time. Slammed me into lockers. The older we got the more frequent it was until I was getting beat up at least once a week."

 

"But your parents-" Kurt interrupted, eyes welling with tears as he caressed every inch of Blaine he could get his hands on, as if checking for any bruises, wounds or scars.

 

"-didn't give a shit." Blaine continued, as he tried to take full steadying breaths. "Dad just told me to suck it up, that I should throw a few punches of my own or be more careful and stop ‘flouncing' around, mum just put some ice on it or turned a blind eye and by the time Cooper started to worry I'd learnt to just shrug it off, to lie. A hand caught in a door here a stray open locker there. It was easier."

 

"But surely-" Kurt begged, desperate to know that someone was there for Blaine, anyone at all. "I tried everything, Kurt," Blaine choked out, his tears starting to slip free "but nothing worked."

 

"After school each day I'd wait until everyone had left and just sit, crying my eyes out in the locker room and that's where I met-" Blaine broke off "where I met J-Jake, God I can't even say his name." He sobbed, shaking in Kurt's arms as he curled around him impossibly tighter. What Blaine said next broke Kurt's heart entirely.

 

"He told me I was way too pretty to cry." Blaine whimpered "He told me that he'd seen me around and had wanted to talk to me before. He told me he thought I was cute and- and he asked if I wanted to maybe go on a date with him. I was shocked. I-I thought he was straight and did anyone even know?"

 

"He said no and that they didn't need to. A secret. That it would be better that way. Just us. I said yes." Blaine tightened his grip around Kurt's waist, his tears staining his silver shirt a dark sinister grey.

 

"Oh Blaine" Kurt choked out, trying to hold Blaine together through tears and sobs of his own.

"I know, I know. I was so stupid, I shouldn't-"

"No honey, no" Kurt stopped him "It's not your fault Blaine, none of this is your fault, don't ever think that."

"But if I'd-"

"No," he interrupted "you didn't do anything wrong. We can stop now if you want. Do you feel okay to tell me any more?"

 

Blaine nodded reaching for Kurt's hand and lacing their fingers together. Kurt brought their hands up to his lips to brush kisses across Blaine's knuckles. There was silence as they paused to collect themselves and Blaine drifted almost into a stupor of numbness, desperate to find a way in which to cope with the next chapter of his story.

 

"We dated. Back row of the movie theatre and restaurants out of town. Kisses in empty class rooms and glances in crowded corridors. I was young and naïve and it was exciting. I was happy. I told Cooper and he was happy for me. The thing was that even though Jake was my world, Tommy and Max never stopped."

 

"Jake was on the football team with them so I asked him if he could get them to back off and at first he did. I hardly ever saw them. It wasn't until about a month in that things got far more... complicated between us."

 

Blaine paused momentarily. His voice had become monotonous and dull as if he was far away. Kurt had to force him to look up at him every now and again to refocus, to stay in the present and not drift entirely into the past.

 

"I lost my virginity pressed up against him in the janitor's closet and then I told him I loved him. He said it back but he didn't even look me in the eye. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't significant, that he still meant it, but something didn't feel right."

 

"I stopped giving in to him and he stopped keeping an eye on Tommy and Max. Eventually they kicked the shit out of me so bad that I barely made it to the locker room before collapsing. I passed out. When I woke up Jake was staring down at me. He said-"

 

Blaine drew in a shaky breath his voice shattering and his tears falling fast and hot and as sharp as razorblades. "He said that if I had just given him what he wanted then it wouldn't have happened. That he loved me and that all he wanted was for me to love him properly in return. It made me sick."

 

"But I just couldn't take it anymore Kurt, I couldn't, I did it, I let him use me." Blaine was convulsing in Kurt's arms, the force of his sobs wracking both their bodies. Kurt just held on, barely breathing through the onslaught of pain and anger and sadness in light of what Blaine was telling him. What Blaine was saying was almost unintelligible and Kurt had to strain to understand each gruesome and devastating word.

 

"I had to wait for him afterschool in the locker room every Wednesday. If I was lucky he just wanted to look or touch but other times he-he wanted my hand or m-my mouth or just anything and he took it, it didn't matter if I wanted him or not."

 

"I begged him to stop until I just couldn't anymore. I was just as damaged as I was when I was at Tommy and Max's mercy. I was at my breaking point and when he-he"

Blaine stuttered out, unable to continue. "Shh baby shh. It's okay you're with me. Me and art remember? You're so brave Blaine. It's alright you can say it." Kurt cooed, voice thick and trembling.

 

"He-he tried to fuck me and I snapped. I wasn't going to do it anymore, I was on the verge of killing myself and everything just needed to stop and it did. Until the Sadie Hawkin's dance. Max, Tommy and Jake knew I was going to go with a friend and they crashed it. I was waiting for Cooper to pick me up when they found me."

 

Kurt gasped and let out a quiet pained whine before settling down eye level to Blaine on the bed in order to be able to watch him more carefully. "Multiple head injuries, broken wrists, four broken ribs a fractured clavicle and a ruptured spleen, I wasn't out of the hospital until after they'd graduated."

 

"They left me in pieces Kurt and I tried so hard but I couldn't fix it."

"We will Blaine," Kurt whispered vehemently, stroking over Blaine's cheeks and trying to brush his tears away "we'll get through this. You'll get through this. You're amazing Blaine, so strong and brave. It's going to be alright, you're not alone anymore."

"Thank you." Finally he could breathe.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

They didn't say anything else after that. They cried and shared gentle touches and soft kisses until a sense of calm finally wrapped around them like the warmth of Blaine's bed covers. They were entwined so closely together that there was barely a hairsbreadth between them, never daring to look away from one another.

 

Kurt broke the silence with three little words that could only signify strength and a new beginning.

 

"Ti amo, Blaine." Kurt whispered against his lips and Blaine's answering smile was beatific, his eyes shining with happiness.

 

"Ti amo, Kurt."


	19. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for discussions of drug use.

Blaine awoke slightly groggy the next morning to muted light and the rise and fall of the body beneath him. His eyes were sensitive so all the crying had left them puffy, irritated and blurry. He was warm, nestled in soft sheets and strong arms and he had never felt so safe and content. But Blaine was still all too aware of what he had shared with Kurt the night before and he was scared of where they were to go from that point on. Blaine's life story could look so different in the light of day, without the stillness and the cover of nightfall.

 

He turned to rest his other cheek on Kurt's chest so he could look up at him, angelic and radiant even in slumber with sleep warmed cheeks and bed mussed hair. The rhythmic beat of Kurt's heart was a comfort as he reached up to stroke his fingertips across his jaw line and into his hair, delicately fingering stray chestnut tendrils that fell across his forehead. He skittered across the planes of Kurt's face before gently brushing across his lips until Blaine felt them twitch and purse to kiss softly at the pads of his fingers.

 

Blaine pulled his hand away and let out a small muffled giggle as Kurt slowly blinked his eyes open. "You're so beautiful" he said not even a ‘hello' or ‘good morning'. He grinned down at Blaine pillowed sweetly on his chest and trying to hide his blush in the fabric of Kurt's shirt. "Aww" Kurt cooed "I think I like adorable, bashful Blaine."

"I don't think I like you at all." Blaine mumbled petulantly with such an irresistible pout that Kurt couldn't help but lean down and kiss it.

 

"You love me." Kurt uttered softly, almost questioningly, settling his hands at Blaine's waist as he shifted to straddle his hips, his palms moving to cup Kurt's face.

"Ti amo, remember?"

"I'll never forget. Ti amo, Blaine."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

After an hour of laughter and lazy kisses they finally dragged themselves out of the warmth of Blaine's bed. They were barely ever a few metres from each other as they showered and dressed, Kurt wrapped up in an oversized woollen red sweater of Blaine's and clean boxers and Blaine couldn't stop staring. He dressed in a loose white shirt and faded blue jeans himself, with his glasses perch on the bridge of his nose; still wobbly on his feet so he chose comfort over style though the strip of tanned skin visible underneath his collar pleased Kurt greatly. And the sight of Kurt tugging nervously at the hem of his sweater, biting his lip and smiling coyly as the smooth pale skin of his collar bone was exposed pleased Blaine even more.

 

Although before he could get his hands on him a loud clanging and a quietly muttered "Oh shit" sounded from beyond the bedroom door and that was their cue to leave their blissful bubble and greet the morning and what sounded suspiciously like Cooper Anderson.

 

It turned out that Cooper had let himself in early that morning to make sure everything was okay and to discuss some ‘plans' that he was concerned about. However, he did contemplate leaving when he heard some giggling, a less than appropriate use of Italian and a few muffled moans here and there. Kurt blushed and tried to hide behind Blaine, while he just continued to look around unimpressed at the mess Cooper had made of his kitchen.

 

"Good morning, love birds!" Cooper crowed, grinning cheekily.

"Thanks for breakfast, Coop." Blaine smirked, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and propping his chin on his shoulder "I'm ravenous."

"Of course you are." both Kurt and Cooper muttered before Kurt tilted his head to kiss Blaine hard and dirty, with complete disregard of Cooper's presence.

 

When they pulled apart it was with panting breaths and a slightly shell shocked Cooper. "Huh" he mused "That was both adorable and filthy I'm seriously trying to decide whether to vomit or hunker down in my bunk."

"Cooper, shut up and eat your eggs." Blaine grunted, sitting down at the kitchen table beside Kurt. "I'm serious, Blainey-"

"Shut up"

"But-"

"Three seconds to shut the hell up!"

"Kurt's hot!" Cooper blurted out with a small smirk and Blaine glared at him, needless to say that the kitchen became an even bigger mess soon after.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

"Well" Cooper sighed, shaking scrambled eggs out of his hair "I was not expecting that kind of reaction."

"I thought I told you to shut up." Blaine mumbled from his place snuggled into Kurt's side. "You did but I think we all know there's something we need to talk about."

"And what would that be?"

"Blaine you relapsed 36 hours ago and I want you to be safe and happy and healthy so I need to know what you want to do about it."

 

Blaine sighed staying quiet. "Maybe we should get in touch with Dr Reed and-" Cooper suggested.

"I am not going to see that shrink again," Blaine replied shortly "he was judgemental and completely unhelpful and I wasn't going to tell him shit no matter how much he wanted to be my ‘friend'."

"What about a rehabilitation centre?" Kurt added, rubbing Blaine's back soothingly as he hunched over the kitchen island. "Yeah," Blaine scoffed "like I can afford that."

"Well then maybe..." Kurt started cautiously "A home detox programme?"

 

Kurt regretted his suggestion when he caught sight of Blaine's wince and wide frightened eyes. "Too risky," Cooper supplied "if his detox is unsupervised or unaided then it can be dangerous. If he goes without anything for an extended period of time, too suddenly, it could cause his body to shut down, organ failure things like that."

"Well then what else is there?"

 

"There are out-patient detox programmes." Cooper mentioned "It's cheaper, you'll only have to go to the clinic once every few days Blaine and someone will come here from time to time to give you emotional support-" Blaine opened his mouth to protest but was cut off "Not, a shrink Blaine but a professional who can keep an eye on how you're coping, better than either I or Kurt can."

 

"Okay I- I'll do it thank you."

"It's okay little B, we've got your back" Cooper smiles fondly down at him, squeezing his shoulder. "You haven't called me little B since I was fourteen." Blaine whispered, eyes a little watery. "Yeah well I haven't been a big brother to you since then have I." Blaine tried to refute immediately but Cooper just grinned and shook his head before lightly kissing his forehead, picking up his jacket and leaving.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Kurt and Blaine remained in the kitchen for a while after Cooper's departure, Kurt all the while carding his fingers through Blaine's silky curls.

 

"There's something else bothering you about this, isn't there?" Kurt questioned.

"I- just," Blaine sighed, pulling Kurt closer until he was sitting on his lap "it'll mean I'll have to leave class for a while, a month at least and I can't ask you, to go through all this. Withdrawal hurts, detoxing hurts, I've tried before." Blaine buried his face in the juncture of Kurt's neck, kissing hard at the sweet smelling skin there.

"I know, I know. Shhh, don't be silly, I'm here every step of the way." Kurt murmured running his hands through Blaine's dark curls.

 

"You're destroying yourself like this Blaine." He whispered sadly. Blaine stopped then and clutched at Kurt tighter.

"Some things need to be destroyed." His words shocked Kurt. That even after all Blaine had been though, after how tormented he'd been by animals like Tommy, Max, Evan, Zach and Jake he saw himself as the monster.

 

"Not you," Kurt says adamantly, his blue eyes blazing and holding Blaine's gaze "never you Blaine. You need to stop this."

 

Blaine's gaze was reverent and dark as he leaned in to press his lips to Kurt's, kissing him hard, almost bruising. He pulled back and Kurt whined, his eye hooded and a breathtaking midnight blue. "Make me." He whispered hotly against Kurt's glistening kiss swollen lips and in an instant Kurt has claimed his.


	20. Nineteen

Kurt moaned from his place perched on the kitchen island, his fingers buried deep and tugging on Blaine's curls as he sucked hungrily on his lower lip. He growled and let his hands slip under the soft fabric of Kurt's sweater, his rough hands sliding up his taut abdomen. Kurt let out a slightly startled squeak before pulling back minutely and Blaine dropped his hands and stepped back immediately, hands clasped tightly in front of him to keep himself from reaching out, his eyes wide and horrified.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean- I mean obviously I want- but I don't want to push and you said- and if you don't want- I'm so so sorry-" Blaine rambled until Kurt burst out laughing. "Blaine you idiot, you just surprised me. Come back here!"

 

Blaine exhaled in relief before grinning like the cat that just got the cream. He stepped back in between Kurt's legs and slipped his hands back underneath his sweater to rest at his hips. Kurt wrapped his arms around his shoulders, tugging him closer like he could never be close enough. "Of course I want to Blaine." Kurt said his voice breathy and strained.

 

Blaine looked up at him from under his dark lashes, licking his lips at the sight before him, his eyes dark but still tinged with concern. "But Zach and you said you were-" Blaine mumbled as his thumbs started to stroke the soft skin of Kurt's hip. "A virgin yes I remember, but I've had plenty of experience thanks" Kurt smiled mischievously before leaning down to give Blaine another lingering kiss that left him chasing after his lips. "And besides" he continued "I trust  _you_  and believe it or not" Kurt trailed off, taking hold of Blaine's wrist and dragging his hand across the skin of his pelvis to press against his half hard cock "I  _want_  you."

 

Blaine's pupils were blown wide, almost consuming the rich caramel of his irises. He gazed raptly at Kurt as he cupped him through his underwear and squeezed teasingly, causing Kurt to whine. Blaine pressed closer, mouthing and sucking at his neck as he began to palm him lightly, so good but never enough. He felt his blood rush around his body, arousal spiking suddenly at the thrill of touching him, hearing him, tasting him and Kurt being so trusting and willing to let him do so.

 

"Perfetto" He whispered against his neck, his breath ghosting hot against Kurt's damp skin "do you want-"

"Take me to bed Mr Anderson."

"At least you got my name right this time."

"I was drunk, like really drunk" Kurt gritted out as Blaine's hand grazed the head of his cock.

"I know but Andershnaps? Really?" Blaine continued to tease, licking and biting at his Adam's apple, lips tingling with the vibrations of Kurt's frustrated growls and groans.

 

"Blaine fuck," he choked out "I swear to God if we don't move in the next three seconds I will finish this myself!"

"Now that I would love to see" Blaine chuckled, low and rough as he hoisted Kurt down from the island and into his arms to carry him bridal style.

"Blaine!" Kurt squawked as he was lifted almost effortlessly.

"To the bedroom?" Blaine questioned one last time.

"To the bedroom."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

The only way Blaine knew he hadn't died and gone to heaven was that he was pretty sure that the level of homoerotic debauchery in front of him was forbidden beyond the pearly white gates. Kurt was spread out in front of him on the sheets, panting heavily, his pale skin flushed from his cheeks to all the way down his chest.

 

They'd taken their time once they'd made it through the door to Blaine's bedroom, peeling items of clothing off each other and tentatively tracing every new expanse of skin. Their kisses were messy as they rocked against each other, Kurt mewling and scratching blunt finger nails down Blaine's back, revelling in the smooth tan skin and the shifting muscles, his head thrown back and neck bared. Kurt thrust his hips up hard, aligning their cocks perfectly and Blaine's answering moan was nothing short of pornographic.

 

He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, beads of it rolling down his temple and neck as he dropped his forehead to Kurt's collarbone, thrusting faster and grinding deliciously. Lust clouded him like toxic fog at the sound of every whimper and moan that accompanied each slick drag of skin, his hands clutching and stroking every inch of Kurt's body he could reach.

 

Kurt had never felt so loved in his entire life. He'd had his fair share of lovers but none had ever touched him with such desperate reverence as Blaine did or looked at him with such unbridled awe and desire. Every jolt of white hot pleasure made his heart ache and as he got closer and closer he couldn't help but beg for more.

 

"Blaine please-" he whined, arching up into Blaine as he slid his hands underneath him to the small of his back. Blaine pulled back slightly to look down at him, their faces only inches apart. "Please what, baby?" he said softly, voice deep and rumbling as his fingertips continued to press into Kurt's flawless skin.

 

"Fuck me." It was a timid hot whisper against Blaine's skin but it still sent shudders rippling down his spine. Blaine hovered over him; his own cheeks dusted deep pink, parted lips bruised and swollen and his eyes half lidded and wild, sparking with lust. He reached over and pulled open his bedside draw before stopping and searching Kurt's eyes for any sign of hesitation.

 

He didn't find any but he still asked. "Are you sure amore? I don't want to hurt you." Kurt's reply was instant.

"Please, I'm sure." He said, smiling softly as he reached into the draw and fumbled for supplies, finding them and dropping them onto the sheets. He buried his hands in Blaine's curls and pulled, crushing their lips together once more.

 

After what seemed like hours, their lips parted and they were intoxicated, frantic with want. The constant need to be closer overwhelming and dizzying. Blaine made his way down Kurt's body, pausing to suck deep bruises into the pale flesh over his rib cage and hip bones. He moved slowly and deliberately, shifting to breathe hot and damp over Kurt's cock, flushed a pretty red and curving up towards his abdomen, hard and aching.

 

"Spread your legs baby" he whispered and Kurt complied with a whimper, his long legs opening wide for him. Blaine leant down and took him into his mouth, sucking on the tip, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the bitter taste of him. Kurt cried out sharply, his hands curled tightly into the sheets below him as Blaine went down on him, taking him to the root and dragging his tongue up the vein on the underside of his dick.

 

Kurt was lost. A writhing mess beneath Blaine's mouth and he almost didn't notice the slick finger begin circling his entrance. Blaine pushed in slowly, to the second knuckle and pulled off Kurt's cock when he felt him clench around his index finger, looking up at him to silently ask to continue and will him to relax. Kurt exhaled a shaky moan and nodded vigorously so Blaine rested his head against Kurt's thigh and grinned, dragging his finger back out and pushing in deeper.

 

Kurt was hot and tight and Blaine couldn't help but moan as he watched his fingers pumping into him. He stroked him open slowly, listening raptly to Kurt's choked off groans above him. He added another finger when Kurt was pleading him for "more, fuck, please more" and stretched and stroked until they were both a desperate panting mess.

 

Kurt whined desperately and fucked himself down onto Blaine's fingers, twisting and sweating, shuddering as heat rushed to his groin. The burn a delicious bright spot amongst the pleasure. As Kurt grew louder Blaine pulled his fingers free, his hands trembled slightly. A discontented gasp escaped Kurt at the sudden emptiness so Blaine lunged forward, pressing every inch of his body against Kurt's as he licked into his mouth. He kissed him sloppily, sucking on his tongue as he moaned into his mouth.

 

"Are you ready?" Blaine questioned quietly, staring into Kurt's piercing midnight blue eyes. He nodded. "Are you sure?"

"I love you" Kurt answered simply, as if it was all that mattered.

 

Blaine was nervous, his seductive confidence waning slightly as he fumbled with the condom and lube. He wanted this to be good for Kurt,  _he_  wanted to be so good for Kurt but it was hard to concentrate when Kurt was staring up at him, gorgeous and so so trusting, giving him everything he had. He kissed him tenderly as he eased into him, fingers of his left hand tangling with Kurt's.

 

Wrapping his legs around Blaine's waist Kurt let out a stuttering breath, willing himself to adjust to the stretch and the feeling of being so completely filled as Blaine murmured soft adulations against his skin, stroking soothingly at every inch of him he could reach without shifting too much. Dragging his hands down Blaine's back to urge him to move he felt him practically shaking. Blaine started with slow, shallow thrusts despite the fire in his veins screaming at him to let go and drive into him.

 

"Fuck Blaine" Kurt choked out, his voice low and raspy like Blaine had never heard it before "I need-" Blaine picked up the pace immediately, thrusting deeper and harder, his body curling and covering Kurt's completely. His heart and mind were in overdrive, revelling in the tight, wet heat surrounding him and the sharp sounds of his hip bones pounding against Kurt's ass.

 

"Jesus fuck! Kuu-rrt" Blaine groaned as Kurt stretched up to place frantic hot kisses over his throat whilst raking his fingernails down his chest, dragging through the dark hair that trailed down his navel. Kurt grabbed at him, hands slipping on Blaine's sweat slick skin, high needy keens punching out of him and searing into the air between them, his body tightening as his senses were consumed with Blaine. Blaine's hips and the guttural grunts and groans tumbling from his bitten lips with every hard thrust. His curly hair dripping with moisture, stuck to his forehead, body flush and scorching as his thrusts turned erratic, hips swirling and grinding desperately as his cock slid in and out of Kurt.

 

Their eyes never closed, always fixed on the other, drinking in every shiver and arch. "‘m close" Kurt groaned and Blaine reached for him, taking his cock into his hand and pumping him. With three rough strokes, Kurt called Blaine's name, body convulsing and shuddering as he came, thick ropes covering both their bodies and Blaine's fist, smearing against their skin as Blaine continued to slam into him, chasing his own release.

 

Clouded blue eyes, the utterance of his name and the feeling of Kurt's ass clenching down around him sent Blaine tumbling over the edge, the hot, delicious pressure coiling in his abdomen, snapping and shooting blinding pleasure through him as he buried himself deep inside Kurt. He stilled, biting down on Kurt's collarbone and groaning, low and rolling like thunder.

 

Blaine collapsed on top of Kurt, both panting into each other's skin as they regained control of their bodies and full consciousness. Sated and lucid, Blaine pulled out slowly, Kurt hissing at the sudden emptiness. He made quick work of the condom and the mess between them, tying it off and throwing it in the general direction of the bin along with the used Kleenex.

 

Falling back against the sheets, Blaine pulled Kurt on top of him, stroking his damp chestnut hair from his sweaty forehead and peppering kisses across his cheeks, his chin, his nose, and his eyelids. Kurt snuggled down on his chest grinning up at him with wide sparkling eyes.

 

"I love you so much, Kurt" Blaine murmured, grinning back "I don't think you quite understand just how much."

"I love you too" Kurt sighed softly, running the back of his hand down Blaine's flushed cheeks "and I think I'm beginning to, understand I mean." Blaine smirked devilishly, beautiful hazel eyes shining with joy. "I should hope so too after that apparently mind-shattering orgasm" he chuckled, skimming a hand down Kurt's spine and squeezing his ass.

 

"Ever the charmer Blaine Anderson." Kurt giggled before leaning up and kissing Blaine soundly, feeling him smile against his lips.

 

"Of course" Blaine laughed, holding Kurt tightly in his arms, as they settled and began to drift "I'm a gentleman, always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a mention that in this story Blaine has been tested for STD's regularly since he started having sex. We learn some about this in the next chapters.


	21. Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some smut, drug use and descriptions of withdrawal.

Kurt woke up the next morning, curled around a pillow and cold, very cold. It was barely even light outside as he struggled against sleep and vaguely realised that the reason he was so cold was due to the fact that Blaine was no longer stretched out beneath him sleeping soundly. He was wide awake within seconds when he heard a clatter and a broken groan from the bathroom.

 

Panicking, Kurt grabbed a pair of boxers from the floor and ran to the bathroom, coming to a halt in the doorway. Blaine was hunched over sitting on the tiled floor next to the toilet with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. He'd wrapped himself in the sweater Kurt had been wearing the day before and he looked so incredibly tired.

 

"Hey baby" Kurt said softly, kneeling in front of Blaine and brushing the damp curls from his forehead, feeling the burning skin and hissing in sympathy. "Hey" Blaine croaked "sorry I woke you."

 

"Don't be silly Blaine. Are you okay?"

"‘m fine" he mumbled, leaning into Kurt's cool touch and relishing in the relief it gave to his scorching skin. "Were you sick? Is it because-?" Blaine just nodded and sighed forlornly, beckoning Kurt closer and making grabby hands for him, heavy eyes blinking slowly. Kurt wrapped his arms around him carefully and pulled him back against his chest.

 

"This is just the beginning you know" Blaine whispered fearfully "it's gonna get worse, so much worse."

 

With those words Kurt realised just how difficult the next month was going to be. How agonising it could get for Blaine and he found himself briefly doubting whether he could allow him to go through with it at all. There was no doubt that Kurt would be by his side every step of the way and the notion of whether or not Blaine would be strong enough to endure it wasn't even a question. Blaine was a fighter so Kurt was determined to be the one in his corner.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Blaine made the call. Elmbank Rehabilitation Services, three sessions a week with a supervisor and councillor called ‘Trace' and medical overseer Dr Lin. He was asked questions about his history of drug use and his dependence levels, underlying mental and physical health problems, sexual health and whether he'd been tested (he had, was regularly, he may have been an addict and had his fair share of sexual partners but he wasn't an idiot), his environment and support system. Kurt was there to hold his hand and keep his breathing under control the entire time.

 

Admitting to and sharing all of the information required was difficult and uncomfortable and it just made Blaine feel even more ashamed. The lady on the other end of the phone kept congratulating him and his head was just screaming at him ‘yeah congrats you had a fucked up life, got hooked on heroin and did some stupid ass shit that hurt practically everyone around you but that's okay because at least you're doing something about it this time around, even though you've failed once before'.

 

His details were taken. The scheduling discussed (Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays for a month), information and medical guides mailed and by the time he'd hung up the phone he was relieved but aggravated and solemn.

 

Kurt convinced him to write Arabella a letter and maybe draw her something soon after but it ended up just being Blaine regaling stories of her antics like the time he took her to an exhibition and she ended up scaling someone's sculpture. He almost burst into tears.

 

So after several failed attempts, some tears and some laughter they returned to their sanctuary. Art had always been their escape and a chance to revel in each other.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Blaine decided that if he was going to get clean for anyone in particular it would probably be either for himself or for Kurt. He watched Kurt, shirtless, with the fading sunlight illuminating his skin, his hair, his eyes as he traced his index finger through the paint that Blaine had set aside.

 

The sweetest smile graced his lips, a scarlet blush blooming high on his cheeks as he caught Blaine staring. Obviously because Kurt was half naked and Blaine still fully clothed.

 

"Blaine please" Kurt mumbled "you too?"

"Of course baby. Fidati di me beautiful." He said softly, pulling off his shirt and sliding forward to wrap his arms around Kurt.

 

His slight shiver when Blaine spoke in Italian did not go unnoticed. Smirking, Blaine bought his lips to Kurt's neck, kissing softly across and under his jaw to rest at his ear. His breath drew hot and damp over the delicate skin, causing Kurt to gasp.

 

"You like it an awful lot don't you," Blaine whispered in his ear, rough and growling "when I speak Italian."

"Mmhmm, I do" Kurt stuttered, leaning against Blaine's chest, so close that he could feel the rise and fall of it, the beat of his heart.

 

"But I could be saying anything" Blaine chuckled.

"It's not so much what you say, it's the way you say it."

 

Blaine grinned, lips dragging wetly to the nape of Kurt's neck, moving to kiss across his broad shoulders and back. "Oh really?" He questioned. "So if I were to say something like. Ti desidero così tanto, sei talmente bello, sei perfetto!" Blaine's lips brushing the centre of Kurt's back made him shudder and blush a deeper shade of red, tinting the tips of his ears pink.

 

"It doesn't matter that I just told you I want you or that I said you're beautiful, perfect even! Just because my voice sounds like sex."

"Pretty much" Kurt shrugged playfully.

"Aww ever the romantic" Blaine said rolling his eyes.

"Oh hush you and give me wings!"

 

Blaine spent hours on Kurt's wings under the pretence that it would look artsy and imaginative in their portfolios when in all honesty he just wanted to see what it might look like. It was surprising sometimes when Blaine looked over at him and there were no majestic, snowy white wings sprouting from his back. So sue him, he was curious and needed an excuse to get him shirtless.

 

But Kurt with wings was breathtaking. Blaine worked on each feather stroke by stroke, icy blues, sea greens and stormy greys fanning out across his shoulders and back. The closed wings came to a tip at the two dimples at the base of Kurt's spine and his breath hitched with every swipe of cold paint to the tender skin.

 

Kurt didn't ask to see them when Blaine had finished, he just watched from over his shoulder as he put the brushes down with shaking hands. It seemed that their project had not succeeded in distracting Blaine from his withdrawal symptoms that appeared to have increased in intensity. Kurt turned, taking Blaine's hands in his and holding tight.

 

"Are you okay?" He asked softly. Blaine didn't feel like talking. "I'm fine" he replied with a watery smile, brow furrowed as he shifted uncomfortably. Noticing his unease, Kurt moved closer, knowing that Blaine needed him to ground him.

 

"How does it feel?" He asked tentatively, needing to understand what Blaine was going through. "It aches" Blaine replied quietly, laying down on the floor and pulling Kurt on top of him. "In your muscles, in your bones, you just feel heavy. The cramps started quickly but apparently my dependency levels aren't as severe this time around so they might not start up until later."

 

"Does it hurt?" Kurt whispered brokenly, sitting on Blaine's thighs and staring down at him. "I can't lie to you because if you're sticking around you'll be able to see for yourself but yes it does. It's fucking excruciating."

 

"I'm sorry" Kurt muttered, hands stroking over Blaine's chest rising and falling steadily beneath him. "Don't be," he said, stilling Kurt's hands and pulling him down against him "it'll be worth it."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Blaine was fragile, vulnerable after that, clinging to him, kissing deep and needy. Kurt undressed him carefully, trying to coax Blaine into going slow, into making sure that Blaine couldn't be hurt by what they both obviously wanted in that moment.

 

Finally exposed and writhing beneath him, Kurt was made breathless by the sight of him. Tanned skin glowing in the light of the setting sun, sinking low beneath the New York skyline and filtering through the glass panels. His eyes wide and shining, pleading with him and so desperate. He sobbed with pleasure, drowning in Kurt's every touch, kiss and whisper, cracked open and exposed falling into sensation and trusting Kurt to catch him.

 

Everything was hot and slick with sweat, Blaine clutching at Kurt's back, his fingertips slipping through the paint streaking every inch of Kurt in colour as he clawed and pulled at him. Panting and keening on the living room floor, his lips swollen and parted and Kurt's hand buried in his hair as he rocked into him.

 

His moans were loud and unrestrained and Kurt was overwhelmed, enraptured by how perfectly wild and beautiful Blaine looked like that. Kurt was so covered in silvery blue and green paint that some had been transferred to Blaine, painting him like a canvas, a whining whimpering masterpiece for his eyes only.

 

Blaine clenched his eyes shut, his head turned to the side as he wrapped himself around Kurt, twisting and thrusting to get more, to get closer. He was lost until Kurt asked him to look at him, his eyes fluttered open, eyelids fighting to close from the pleasure but Blaine forced them open.

 

Kurt leant down to capture Blaine's lips in one last desperate kiss, a hot hard press of bruised flesh. Blaine cried out against Kurt's lips the sound and feel of him swamping his senses and they both fell into blissful oblivion.

 

The look in Kurt's eyes was unmistakeable and if Blaine had any doubts before that moment they were all promptly destroyed in a flash of midnight blue. Kurt Hummel was so completely, unbelievably in love with Blaine Anderson. And Blaine had finally found his muse.


	22. Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for severe withdrawal and the use of substitute opiates.

Blaine insisted that Kurt shouldn't stay with him during his treatment. He argued that it wasn't something he wanted Kurt to see and that it was something he had to do mostly on his own and for himself. Kurt argued that he'd promised to be there every step of the way and that he needed to know Blaine was safe despite what he knew he'd see him going through.

 

Not unsurprisingly Kurt won. The Saturday of the first week Kurt had decided to check in on Blaine, see how the counselling was going and maybe work a little on their pieces. The door was open as always so he walked straight in, calling out to Blaine and chattering away about class until he heard a dull thud and he was silenced.

 

He should've expected it, should've insisted on staying from the very beginning. Instead he'd been convinced by Blaine's bright smile, warm skin and sweet breath that everything would be fine, that he'd be okay. Of course now he wasn't.

 

He could hear the shower running and he almost thought that everything must've been fine until he heard it. The very same groan he'd heard when he'd found Blaine hunched over and shivering with his first bout of withdrawal sickness. This time however, the sound left Kurt ice cold, heart pounding in his throat as he dropped everything and ran to the bathroom.

 

The groan soon trailed off, breaking into grating broken sobs and gasps for breath. There was no steam present when he burst into the bathroom which meant the water plummeting from the shower must've been cold. He could see the faint shadow of Blaine through the frosted glass, collapsed on the floor right under the spray. With frantic hands Kurt pushed the partition aside, falling to his knees on the hard ceramic tile.

 

Blaine was heaving, his entire body shaking violently as he struggled to draw in breath. With eyes shut tight, he practically convulsed under the ice cold downpour of water, his lips turning blue, skin ghostly white and soaked to the bone. Kurt screamed his name but he only blinked up at him, still slumped on the floor of the shower seemingly unable to move. Kurt scrambled to shut the shower off, completely soaked through himself from kneeling on the shower floor.

 

"Blaine" Kurt breathed, noticing the tears now merging with the water running into Blaine's eyes "Wh- what happened-wh?" In all honesty, Kurt didn't know what to do. His head was screaming at him to do  _something_ , take Blaine in his arms and will away all the pain but of course he didn't know how to do that. Blaine had told him about how to deal with the bouts of sickness, water, warmth and a waste bin in the near vicinity. He'd told him about how to handle muscle cramps, he needed to keep moving or rest depending on the intensity. But  _nothing_  on how to deal with something like what was in front of him.

 

There was no how to guide for him. No ‘How to take care of your detoxing boyfriend'. No ‘How to handle piecing the love of your life back together without breaking yourself'. Not knowing how to  _help_ , not knowing how to make it  _stop_  was Kurt's own agony. He had nothing to go on but instinct and what little experience of Blaine and withdrawal he'd already gained.

 

Kurt wrapped himself around him, trying to quell his shivering with his body heat and Blaine fell into him immediately, his limbs stiff and awkward. "Was hot" Blaine whispered hoarsely "burning, needed" every sentence he uttered was set on edge by the chattering of his teeth "but too long- cou-couldn't move- too cold- hurts."

 

Blaine choked on another wretched sob and Kurt was spurred into action, now aware of their position on the cold shower floor, soaked through and still draped in their wet clothes. "Blaine baby can you try and stand up for me?" Kurt asked, hooking his torso as Blaine futilely tried to work his aching limbs. "Can't." Blaine whined pitifully "Hurts, Kurt. Hurts so much."

 

Using all his strength Kurt pulled Blaine to his feet, supporting both his own and Blaine's weight and trying not to slip. He guided Blaine to lean against the sink, brushing his sopping curls off his forehead as he tried to stay upright.

 

"We're gonna get these clothes off and get you dry and warm again okay sweetheart?" Kurt said softly and Blaine nodded, trying to help by bringing his ice cold fumbling fingers to the buttons on his shirt. Kurt batted them away gently, undressing Blaine himself with caution and care. Before long Kurt had Blaine swaddled in towels, the wet clothes thrown carelessly into the hamper.

 

Kurt dried every inch of him with meticulous tenderness, passing a fluffy navy towel over his hair and face. Blaine just let him, actually actively let Kurt take care of him for once and sat back as he was wrapped in towels to perch on the sink as Kurt tended to his own state quickly.

 

Blaine had regained some colour but he was still shivering violently, unable to retain heat for very long. His muscles were screaming at him and even standing or moving the slightest fraction was a gargantuan effort. Noticing Blaine's drooping eyes and faltering movements Kurt carried him to bed, lifting him almost easily before placing him under the sheets. He hurried to the hall cabinet for all the blankets he could find and laid them out on top of Blaine before climbing in beside him and curling his small frame into his.

 

Eventually Kurt thought Blaine must have fallen asleep until he heard sniffling and looked down to see tears glistening on Blaine's then pale skin. "I'm sorry" he croaked, burrowing closer to Kurt.

"Hey don't." He replied comfortingly holding on to him just that little bit tighter "It's okay. It's gonna be okay. I'm here now."

"Thank you"

 

They clung to each other for the rest of the night and began to drift when they were warm again, safely nestled in each other's arms.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

The next morning Kurt called Dr Lin and asked him to visit them, seeing as Blaine was in no state to make it to Elmbank. Dr Lin was a kind man in his mid forties with blonde hair and clear blue eyes. He spoke to Blaine, bundled up in bed with Kurt beside him, without condescension and he didn't bat an eye when every now and again Kurt would place a reassuring kiss on Blaine's lips. In fact, he smiled warmly at their apparent closeness.

 

After checking his vitals he administered a minimal dosage of Methadone to dull some of the withdrawal symptoms and ease some of the muscle pain. Dr Lin complimented them on being such a solid support system for each other. As the opiate began to take hold, Dr Lin teased Blaine about his heart eyes and Kurt about his complete devotion to Blaine's welfare to which Blaine snorted rather loudly and muttered something about being a lucky son of a bitch in more ways than one.

 

Blaine began to struggle with keeping his eyes open and Kurt shot the doctor a worried look. "In some cases," he said reassuringly "Methadone can cause some lethargy and tiredness. Usually I'd recommend you try to keep him awake for a little while seeing as the opiate must have already lowered his heart rate quite considerably but it was a minuscule dosage and he is nothing short of exhausted. I think it best that we let him rest just this once."

 

At the mention of sleeping Blaine's eyes cracked open. "I hate sleeping" he mumbled before losing the battle and closing his eyes once more, succumbing to it, his chest rising and falling steadily. Dr Lin raised an eye brow at Kurt to which he replied simply. "Blaine and sleep don't seem to have a very good track record."


	23. Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for effects of opiate use, slight violent episode and allusions to past assault.

Kurt always tended to sleep soundly when he knew Blaine was near. In his arms or in the next room, he always slept comfortably. And more often than not he dreamt of him. Sometimes, in the morning he was embarrassed by those dreams, as Kurt often thought them like a ridiculously clichéd romance novel. Blaine at the grand piano, rooms of white and flowing fabric. The both of them bare foot and grinning, dancing on the sand under a bright full moon. Needless to say there were countless romantic follies jostling for Kurt's subconscious attention.

 

It was from one of the more raunchy dreams, the image of himself spread out on some Parisian chaise longue with Blaine kneeling on the floor beside him and determined to kiss every inch of him that he slipped into consciousness. Reluctantly he let reality seep in, leaving the Parisian sunset and Blaine's heavenly mouth somewhere safe in the back of his mind.

 

After the ordeal Blaine had had Kurt thought better of slipping into his bed with him while he slept, instead choosing to doze by the window in the living room. This unsurprisingly left him with an aching back to accompany the aching in his hips which he pointedly decided to ignore. Soon he realised that both him and Blaine had slept until well past noon and this worried him greatly.

 

Kurt had a very limited knowledge of the effects of Methadone and not knowing what it could do unsettled him. That combined with the advice of Dr Lin had him moving toward Blaine's room in order to wake him. As he'd told Dr Lin himself, Blaine and sleep did not have a very good track record so knowing he'd allowed him to sleep for so long made him anxious.

 

Once in the bedroom Kurt made straight for Blaine's sleeping form. Earlier that day he'd been out like a light but it looked as if he'd become restless, the sheets tangled haphazardly around his legs. Blaine's eyelashes fluttered wildly every few minutes and Kurt took it as a sign to proceed with caution. He crawled onto the bed, careful not to jostle it and therefore startle him.

 

"Blaine," he called softly, placing a hand on his forehead to sweep away the tousled curls. "Blaine honey, wake up." When Blaine didn't stir Kurt took to peppering his face with kisses finally landing a soft kiss to his parted lips, but still Blaine didn't wake. Kurt tried calling his name louder but to no avail.

 

Blaine was not a particularly heavy sleeper; his unresponsiveness caused Kurt to panic. With shaking hands he pulled back the sheets slightly, leaning close. Blaine's breathing was slightly stilted and his eyelashes continued to flutter, the glimpse of his eyes moving franticly behind the eyelids.

 

All at once Kurt could tell he was dreaming, and it must not have been pleasant. Those few minutes between sleep and waking are muddled the journey from nightmare to consciousness a perilous and tenuous one. Blaine's breathing picked up and Kurt reached out to do something he never should have. He shook him.

 

Blaine's eyes snapped open; he was awake but clearly not entirely present. His eyes fell on Kurt, still close and palms pressed to his shoulders and he looked terrified, so scared he was shaking. The only sound audible was Blaine's hitching breaths. He tried to shrink back into the pillows but Kurt moved with him.

 

Every second that ticked by was a second closer to hysteria; Blaine's breathing bordering on hyperventilation. With every shift, he would whimper and the pained sound became too much for Kurt and he reached out to touch Blaine's face. That's when it happened.

 

"NO!" Blaine screamed and there was a deafening silence before Blaine's palm made contact with Kurt's left cheek. He thrashed wildly against him, tangling further in the sheets and crashing to the hardwood floor. Kurt was thrown to the other side of the bed clutching his stinging cheek, tears falling fast and hot. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed again voice cracking on a sob. He scrambled to get away from the bed, bringing the night stand tumbling down.

 

The lamp and glass that was on it shattered on the ground but Blaine paid it no heed in his haste to escape. He clambered straight over it, the sharp jagged edges tearing at the skin of his palms, forearms and shins. With glass buried deep and breathing erratic he cowered in the corner of his bedroom, his eyes wide open hardly daring to blink and muttering ‘please not today, please don't Jake, please please please'.

 

Jake. Blaine thought he was... Kurt was sobbing, eyes wide in horror as he tried to get closer to Blaine but every time he tried he froze once more. Blaine flinched with every small move he made towards him. He was staring right at him, his tea stained eyes filled with fear as he watched him, though it didn't really look like he was seeing him at all.

 

Blaine was dizzy, his head spinning from lack of oxygen. His lungs were trying to heave in air but he always seemed short of it. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears, feel the slight numbness in his arms but still his eyes stayed open.

 

He could see him. Hovering a small way away, shifting irritably like a pacing predator readying to attack its prey. The image was blurry, a vague silhouette of a figure but Blaine was sure it was him. No doubt he was probably just as hungry. He always was, always insatiable but that didn't stop Blaine from hoping he wasn't. Praying he'd had his fill of him after the tenth, twentieth, thirtieth time.

 

He could smell it, the stench of stale cigarette smoke, and sweat. He was inching closer and with every bit of distance crossed Blaine's voice grew louder. ‘Please no! Please don't! I don't want to NO! Please!'

 

His panic grew and his vision swam until...

 

"PLEASE JUST KILL ME INSTEAD!"

 

He rushed at him and Blaine felt a scream build in his throat before something was taking his hand, holding him tenderly, so softly and threading their fingers through his. The last thing he registered was the scent of fear and hate succumbing to one of sandalwood and vanilla before the world went black.


	24. Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of violence.

Blaine woke up alone in a bed with nothing but the beep of a heart monitor and the distant bustle of the hospital he was in. The journey to consciousness was like being dragged across asphalt and it hit him suddenly that he was all too aware of what that actually felt like, physically. There was no hyperbole with the notion. He'd experienced it before.

 

With a mind lingering on said experience, a brief panic settled over him, what if he was sixteen again, back in the hospital after  _that_ night, still terrified that they'd find him and finish what they started. But of course he wasn't. He took stock of his body quickly, too accustomed to being in and out of hospital to actually wonder as to why this time around he was actually there. He twisted his arms in his lap. Hands, rough and big, forearms and biceps, thick and muscled. He skimmed a hand across his torso, broad chest, abs... He was pretty sure he didn't have abs like that when he was sixteen. They weren't too shabby then either but by the state of them at twenty he was pretty smug.

 

He was still petting his abdomen when he heard the door creak open and in stepped Cooper and Kurt. Cooper winked and walked straight to the window. Kurt smiled at him bemusedly, and Blaine's brow furrowed slightly as he took in his raw left cheek and red rimmed eyes but before he had a chance to say anything Kurt sat down beside him, taking a hand away from his abdomen and holding it in his.

 

"What  _are_  you doing?" Kurt chuckled, kissing his knuckles and gazing up at Blaine with those breathtaking crystal blue eyes of his. "A-abs" Blaine stuttered, other hand still petting at them "I have abs. Great abs actually."

"That you do Blaine. Gorgeous abs" Kurt purred teasingly, barely suppressing his amusement as Blaine's eyes widened and a faint blush stained his cheeks.

 

"I forgot" Blaine said quietly, eyes dropping to the bedspread.

"You forgot you had abs?" Kurt questioned confusedly, still smiling and trying to catch Blaine's eye.

"No- I. I forgot I wasn't sixteen anymore. I- I woke up and you weren't here," Blaine muttered, eyes watering "an- and I thought I was back home, after t-the Sadie Hawkin's dance."

 

Kurt's face fell, his grip on Blaine's hand tightening exponentially. "But I'm not" Blaine said determinedly. "I have abs!" He exclaimed causing Kurt to snort quite loudly "I'm twenty. I have art. I have the best big brother little B could ask for. I have the cutest niece. I have a boyfriend and he's the love of my life and the most beautiful man to ever exist and-"

 

"Woah okay!" Cooper twirled round from the window, wiping at his eyes conspicuously. "Hurray for positivity and all but-"

"He's sweet, sultry perfection!" Blaine called, interrupting and grinning cheekily. "An Adonis!" he yelled, ignoring his brother's protests and Kurt's scarlet blush "and a fucking God in bed" He sing songed as Cooper strode from the room, hands over his ears and singing obnoxiously loud.

 

"That was unnecessary."

"Au contraire I think it was perfectly necessary."

"To broadcast our sex life to every patient, visitor and staff member in the hospital?"

"Yep"

"Why, may I ask?"

"Because our sex life is fucking fantastic."

"Mmhmm but why in front of your brother?"

"Revenge"

"For what?"

"The scrambled egg incident."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

It didn't take long for Blaine to notice that Kurt's smile didn't reach his eyes. That he couldn't look Blaine in the eye for longer than a few seconds. That he'd flinch slightly when presented with even the gentlest of touches.

 

Kurt and Blaine were alone. Blaine propped up in bed listening to Kurt chatter away seemingly perfectly at ease except for the anxious flicker behind his eyes. Blaine could be oblivious at times but he wasn't stupid. Far from it. When it came to Kurt, Blaine knew in an instant when something was wrong.

 

Blaine didn't remember entirely how he'd ended up in hospital, he'd asked and been told that all would be revealed to him later. He didn't argue because that was Kurt and he trusted Kurt, trusted that he was safe, that he'd be fine. But Blaine couldn't _remember_. He knew something had happened at home but as for the details... Well there were none. There was only one explanation.

 

"What did I do?" He asked quietly, cutting Kurt off.

"I- what are you talking about?"

"What did I do, Kurt?"

"You didn't do-"

"Don't you dare," Blaine said, frustrated and trying to hold Kurt's gaze "don't you dare try and make excuses for me Kurt. What, did I do?"

 

Kurt stayed silent for a while, debating whether to tell Blaine or wait. Wait until when he didn't know exactly but Cooper had said to wait. Cooper argued that telling him too early would set him off, send him reeling back and that was something none of them could bare again. They both knew the knowledge of what he'd done, however unknowingly, would devastate him. But Kurt couldn't lie, not to Blaine, and he promised himself he would always be open with him, no secrets and nothing to hide.

 

"Please," Blaine whispered hoarsely, "just tell me what I did baby."

 

"You- you were sleeping and, I was worried so I wanted to wake you but you weren't waking up so I panicked and I-I sh-shook you and startled you but" Kurt paused drawing in a shaky breath and blinking back tears as images of Blaine terrified and scrambling to get away, to get away from  _him_ , burned in the back of his mind. "You were awake but you weren't there and you-" The tears spilled over and all they ever seemed to be able to do consistently was cry "you were having a nightmare and you thought you were sixteen and back in high school. I was so scared Blaine, you were terrified and you-" He cut himself off, clutching Blaine's hand and refusing to look at him.

 

"You thought I was Jake."

 

The look of horror on Blaine's face was enough to shatter Kurt's heart for the hundredth time. As much as it left Kurt feeling sick to his stomach that he'd been mistaken for such a monster it hurt so much more to see that Blaine blamed himself for a mistake he had no control over. Blaine's grip on his hand was almost painful, the other covering his mouth, his eyes wide and shining with tears.

 

He reached out to brush gently against Kurt's reddened cheek. Kurt winced at the sting of it and Blaine's breath hitched, heart lurching into his throat as Kurt flinched and struggled not to turn away from his touch.

 

"How did-" Blaine choked out fearfully, body heavy with dread "How did it happen? How did you get hurt?" Kurt swallowed hard, unable to hold Blaine's distraught gaze for a moment longer.

 

"It was my fault." He uttered almost pleadingly "You were so scared you kept backing away and I panicked. I didn't know what to do, what you were going to do so I thought maybe if I stayed with you, you'd stay grounded but-"

 

"You kept flinching away and I wouldn't back off so you-" Kurt drew in a shuddering breath, refusing to look at him but still holding his hand tightly.

 

"I-I hit you" Blaine choked out, angry and stricken as it all came flooding back.

"You didn't know-"

"I HIT you."

"NO! You didn't-"

"But I did Kurt!" Blaine yelled, pulling his hands away from Kurt like he'd been burned "Oh God! I promised, I promised you'd be safe and I- I'm so so sorry oh God!"

 

"STOP IT! IT WAS MY FAULT BLAINE!"

"NO IT FUCKING WASN'T KURT"

"THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL THAT IT WAS YOURS!"

 

Silence descended and only the sound of their ragged, hitching breaths and pounding heartbeats were there to break it. Kurt sat trembling, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he watched Blaine shake and sob with frightened eyes. They were a wreck. They were a war zone.

 

"I can't do this," Blaine muttered quietly, staring down at his hands "I can't."

"What?" Kurt stuttered "This is ridiculous Blaine please."

"I can't keep doing this to you. Making you stay and live in fear that I'll fall or relapse or fucking hurt you. I won't let you. You deserve so much more than  _this_ , so much more than  _me._ "

 

There was screaming and pleading, crying and frantic kisses, ‘I love you's' and promises but Blaine wouldn't change his mind. If any sign of their agony was known outside of that hospital room no one cared. Blaine knew Cooper was all but guarding them from just outside the door and not even he entered.

 

Blaine let Kurt yell and fight and kiss him senseless, drowning in his own need to pull him close, to never let him go. Kurt deserved more, so much better and brighter than anything Blaine would ever have to offer him. He wanted everything for him, a charming, handsome prince that could sweep him off his feet and shower him with all the love, affection and Armani a man like Kurt could ever desire. Someone who would never hurt him, keep him safe and let him shine. Someone who could love him better than Blaine could, and give Kurt the opportunity to do the same.

 

When Blaine stopped responding Kurt collapsed against him, tears still falling fast and hot before getting up and walking toward the door.

 

"I need you to understand" Blaine whispered, his face matching Kurt's; tear stained and cracked with anguish. Kurt turned, eyes a stormy grey, and nodded once before striding through the door.

 

"Ti amo, angelo mio. Addio Kurt."


	25. Twenty Four

Blaine had never been against petulance and when confronted with situations he adamantly did not want to be in, but for some reason had to, he was as petulant as a spoilt child with teething problems.

 

Trace, his support worker and councillor, was nothing like that shitty shrink Dr Reed but she still didn't make him feel anymore compelled to spill his guts. She didn't know him. The only person he'd ever told was Kurt and look where that had got them. So Blaine sat, opposite Trace on a rickety beat up chair about three times too small in the room he used to call his studio and tried to tune out.

 

"Blaine, Blaine!" But Trace was stubborn and pretty difficult to ignore. "I know you're uncomfortable with this but I think it might help you process things." Blaine hesitated, he'd had sessions with Trace before and he'd been perfectly responsive, never approaching the subject of Jake but talking about his relationship with his family even Kurt. But that day he out rightly refused to so much as speak let alone actually start dealing with anything.

 

"I think I know what bought this on," Trace said, smiling slightly and flicking her bright blonde hair over her shoulders "I think this is because of Kurt, isn't it?"

"No" Blaine replied harshly, bordering on pouting. "Nothing to do with him, not anymore."

"Ahh well that's the problem then isn't it?" she said slyly, leaving Blaine baffled. "You need him" Blaine just rolled his eyes.

"It's that obvious it's bordering on pathetic" he sighed dejectedly.

 

To anyone who knew very little about Blaine it would seem like Blaine was hardly affected by Kurt's departure. In actuality Blaine was crushed and to make it worse all the pain from their messy separation he had inflicted upon himself. He was not angry or spiteful or bitter because he had no reason to be. As far as he was concerned he bought it all on himself.

 

The sleepless nights, cold chills and nightmares no longer kept at bay by Kurt's warmth, weight and reassuring presence. Endless days, time passing at an agonising crawl, the tick of each minute an echoing reminder of the emptiness closing in. He dreamt of being back in high school, his future self happy and giddy with Kurt in his arms beyond an impenetrable pane of glass while he relived the horrors of his past, desperate with everything he had hoped that would come to be and now what was and what could've been.

 

Blaine had cried himself hoarse. He was a mess, sobbing and screaming like a part of him was being ripped away, piece by piece, tear by tear. It took everything he had to as much as look past the door and into the studio, the whole room scattered with piece after piece of Kurt. Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, everywhere and anywhere. He was lost, void of meaning, losing will and strength. His journey to recovery seemed a much more ambiguous and even less likely one.

 

When he was with either Trace or Cooper he was shut down and closed off. Nothing could provoke a reaction apart from when Cooper would speak Kurt's name in the midst of speaking Italian. He and his brother were used to talking in the language; having grown up bilingual thanks to their mother's input. Their father did not speak it and hated that Cooper and Blaine were fluent and were able to converse in a way he could neither understand nor moderate. So it became custom for them to speak in Italian whenever times were tough. But with every word he felt more and more lost, remembering his own murmured utterances, desperate to let his words caress Kurt like the silken sheets they'd slept on curled so tight they were almost one.

 

So Blaine had become used to closing off, shutting himself away and losing himself in what he had lost. He was jolted out of his longings by the sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut, the faint strain of a hummed melody floating through the air. At first he let it be, let Trace continue to talk at him assuming it was only Cooper stopping in for a while to check in. But, the more he strained to listen the more he came to realise, the humming was more melodic, soft, in that beautiful countertenor he cherished and knew so well. He was up and out the door and down the hallway in a matter of seconds, Trace following belatedly behind him.

 

"Kurt" Blaine breathed out, frozen in the living room archway. Kurt was flitting around the kitchen, several grocery bags perched on the island. His movements were sluggish and loping but never lacking grace, moving as if it was just another day. He looked frail, thin and vulnerable, hands shaking as he put various items away in the fridge and cabinets, wrists coming up to scrub at his eyes every now and again. His eyes were that same stormy grey they'd been at the hospital, seemingly drained of colour and life. He looked tired, dark circles and porcelain features etched with sadness.

 

"Kurt, what are you doing?" Blaine said voice low as he made his way toward the kitchen. Kurt didn't even look up, barely even flinched at the sound of Blaine's voice. He continued to move around Blaine's kitchen, reluctant to meet his eyes.

 

"I'm putting the groceries away idiot. Your fridge is almost always empty and you don't eat enough to feed a fly, I'm not letting you starve you need your strength." Kurt's voice was hard and monotonous. "I can see that," Blaine replied, moving tentatively closer "but why are you doing  _this_?" He gestured to the bags of food, completely baffled; Kurt should hate him not buy him groceries to make sure he has enough to eat.

 

"Because!" Kurt said abruptly, voice raising and cracking. Angry tears flooded his eyes, the grey irises smouldering like billows of smoke, flecks of blue and green flashing in the light like sparks rising from the ashes of fire. "Lover or not I'm never giving up on you." It was said with such fierceness than Blaine was struck dumb. Kurt always knew how to surprise him. "I made a promise Blaine" it's quiet though even from feet a way it sounds like a gun shot. "I promised we'd do this together, no matter what. I promised I would never leave and I swear Blaine I'm never saying goodbye to you."

 

Uttered with such conviction Kurt made it completely irrefutable. Neither of them knew who moved first but within seconds they were striding toward each other, crossing that last barrier, going the distance and crashing their lips together. It was desperate and rough, sharp inhales and pressing in as close and tight as physically possible. Kurt's arms snaked round Blaine's shoulder's roving over the planes of his back and digging in through the fabric of his shirt. Blaine's hands gripped Kurt's face; fingertips spread wide cupping him from temple to jaw, brushing over cheekbones.

 

They kissed and kissed, tongues sliding and tangling, teeth clashing and biting at crushed and bruising lips. Blaine backed Kurt up against the kitchen island, Kurt completely oblivious to the edge jutting out into the small of his back, his senses consumed and overwhelmed by Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. They were so lost to each other, so enraptured and enthralled by the other's touch and taste and scent that everything fell away. Trace slipped out the front door, grin wide and bright and feeling flushed after witnessing the boys' clearly unbridled passion for one another.

 

Nothing occurred to Blaine but Kurt's heaving chest and blistering skin, the breathy whimpers he was swallowing with his mouth that he'd missed so much, the high whines and moans vibrating in the back of his throat that drive him insane with want and need. And it's then, pressed against him, with Kurt bucking and writhing and pushed against the counter top that Blaine realised how wrong he was. That even though Kurt doesn't show it nearly as much, Kurt needs him. He needs Blaine and not the prince charming he'd conjured up. Even though Blaine would maybe never feel worthy of Kurt, he could have him, just as long as Kurt needed him.


	26. Twenty Five

Blaine pulled away from Kurt's sinful lips with a deep sigh, letting out days of unrest and incompleteness. He pulled him away from the counter, gripping him tight in his arms as he nipped and kissed at Kurt's neck. "I missed you" Blaine whispered, voice rough and husky from disuse "I missed you so much."

"Your own-n fault Blaine" Kurt managed to stutter with tears threatening to fall anew. His voice was strained and bitter and Blaine pulled his head up immediately to see his eyes. "I-I"

 

"I haven't slept Blaine, for three days. Barely eaten a scrap, Rachel was practically contemplating a force feeding. I didn't go to school, or work. I ruined sketches, my own personal sketches. I cried until my throat was raw and my eyes were burning." Kurt paused, his hands framing Blaine's face as he watched in misery as those beautiful honey eyes swirled with guilt and sadness and fear. "You've ruined me, because you- I-  _we_  love so much."

 

Blaine's breath was shaky as he stared at Kurt's face, drawn with eyes puffy and bloodshot but still the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on. If there's one thing they both knew it was that when Blaine felt guilty that guilt crippled him, he made bad decisions, following fool's errands and making rookie mistakes. But he knew he was to blame, he also knew that Kurt wanted him in his life so he had to make things right.

 

"I love you so much I couldn't think straight knowing that you might've not ever come back. I barely slept, and when I did th-the nightmares came back and god Kurt you were there with me and Jake and I couldn't I woke up sweating, crying and shaking every time, throwing up from the detox and the images of you and-" Blaine paused panting and trying to swallow back sobs. He was rigid in Kurt's hold but that only made him clutch a little tighter, listening to every word. "Didn't eat, the programme is hell without you, Trace and ‘opening up'. Cooper heard it all, crying and screaming and eventually I shut everything down, Trace, Cooper, recovery. I can't do it without you Kurt; I can't even function, not anymore."

 

Kurt let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. It had been so easy to be bitter, to be angry, even when he discovered that Blaine thought that what he'd done was best for Kurt, to keep Kurt safe and happy. Because the truth was that without Blaine, Kurt was even more of a danger to himself than Blaine could ever be to him.

 

Kurt curled his fingers through Blaine's hair, carding through the soft curls in movements so familiar it was easy to think they had been forged through years together and not a couple of months. Blaine's eyes fluttered closed, sighing with cherry red bruised lips parted on every breath, sinful and seraphic, a contradiction that was so very  _Blaine_. "I'm so sorry" Blaine breathed, eyelashes brushing against his flushed cheeks and his tongue darting out to wet his lips "Kurt, you've ruined me too."

 

Blaine looked so vulnerable like that. So open, stripped of every façade and barrier that prevented him from being as close to Kurt as possible. That's when it hit him, it was Blaine giving them what they needed, trusting Kurt to know what's right with him and by him. Blaine was giving himself to Kurt, his love, his trust, his confidence, unconditionally, unequivocally and irrevocably.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

With the knowledge that Blaine, who had been closed off and drowning in his own mind for so many years, was finally so free and open Kurt was made breathless. The relief washed over him like soft waves against the shore, steady and undulating but making way for exhaustion to crash down in its recession. In the moments after those hoarse whispered confessions Kurt felt just as vulnerable as Blaine so clearly looked. It both frightened and thrilled him, to be so fragile in Blaine's arms, to let him hold him and soothe the past few days away with each caress and kiss and reverent praise.

 

Tired yet aching for more they moved slow, floating and wound tight, fingers interlocked as they moved towards the bedroom. There was no plan, no agenda, the room serving as something of a safe haven even after Blaine's episode in the very same bed. For Blaine, though marred slightly, the room meant sanctuary, where Kurt had kept him so safe and so loved even in slumber. And of course the first night, where his past was relived and his soul laid bare to the only one who he could ever love enough to allow himself to do so.

 

The room was cold but the heat rises and the need became all too much. Very similar to one of Kurt's romance novel-esque dreams, Blaine was confronted with whimsical imagery, something that seemed so cliché but had become his life. A waking dream of his boyfriend, best friend, lover, soul mate, laid bare for him naked and pale and glowing iridescent on crimson linens backlit by the moon filtering through high arch windows. Blaine was used to rugged reality, the push and shove of a dirty world, of squalid excuses for humanity, struggles for sanity and the suffocating fight for survival. Kurt was another world, bright and sensual and bursting at the seams with hope and love and laughter. Though rationality would call it unhealthy, bordering on perverse even, there was no greater object or being or deity that Blaine would rather worship than Kurt.

 

He felt it like the rush that accompanied free falling, like the spark that ignites the fire, like electrical currents or the flow of blood through his veins. Desperate and wanting, needing, to give give give, and take what Kurt wanted to offer in return. Though he'd do it all, everything and anything for nothing if that's what he needed. And maybe that made him, stupid and weak or naive but he was in love with his world and he couldn't bring himself to care.

 

The first press of palm to skin was like the final piece of him. Slotting into place and fitting so perfectly with Kurt that it still struck him how surreal it was that he was right for Kurt, in every which way imaginable. Blaine pressed himself close, eyes never leaving Kurt for a second. His calloused hands moved slowly, stroking over clavicle, and chest, abdominals and thighs, brushing and pulling and gripping at him. He was reunited with a Kurt, so undone, so raw and powerful that it took his breath away. Every reverent touch of his cool fingertips to Blaine's heated skin, every sigh and mewl and whimper, every bruise sucked deep into his sun kissed flesh and every ghost of lips against his own sent him spiralling.

 

Blaine took his time, there was no inclination to make his touch or his kisses into something more but as minutes ticked past and every inch was  _almost_  explored the air shifted. Subtle, almost imperceptible but thrumming just below the surface. It was still overwhelming; that sex with Kurt wasn't just sex and despite his better judgement the first time Blaine was scared it could be just another fuck. Blaine's doubts about Kurt plagued him ruthlessly, despite being in love and trusting him more than anyone else in the world there was still that instinct to pull away, to be wary and suspicious. With those doubts dissipating it made being with Kurt increasingly intense, burning and cresting with every thought and feeling and with pleasure insurmountable.

 

Kurt rolled against him, blue eyes wild and pleading and Blaine knew exactly what he needed. He shifted up towards the headboard and leant his back against it. Kurt was in his lap immediately, fingers curled in Blaine's hair as he rocked his ass back against him, groaning and trying to convey what he wanted without even needing to. Kurt was grappling with the botched up nightstand before Blaine had even gathered his wits enough to think about the prep. To Blaine's surprise Kurt squirted the lube onto his own fingers, coating them with the liquid, shifting back and rising up, holding eye contact with a panting Blaine as he bought his hand back, body arching as his index finger circled the rim and pushed in quickly.

 

Blaine did everything he could to worship the man in his lap. Rough fingers curling around Kurt's cock as he prepared himself, a hand pressed to the small of his back, holding him up as he arched into every kiss and ghost of a touch with moans and whimpers. So supple, lean and flexible. Blaine wanted to touch him everywhere, smooth slick skin and shifting muscle. He placed hot open mouthed kisses across his neck, his chest, his stomach, sucking bruises into pulse points and nipping at his collar bone and rib cage. Ignoring the ache in his groin he licked across Kurt's body, Kurt slamming down on the three fingers inside him and crying out as Blaine's tongue circled a pebbled nipple.

 

A flare of pleasure and Kurt removed his fingers, climbing into Blaine's lap and wrapping his legs around his waist. He crushed their lips together as he brought his hand down to stroke Blaine's cock beneath him, tongues tangling, slick and rough as Blaine groaned into his mouth and thrust up into his fist. "Condom?" Kurt shook his head

"Wanna feel you" he whispered desperately against Blaine's lips. He nodded frantically, resting his forehead against Kurt's and shutting his eyes tight.

"I love you"

"I love you too."

 

Kurt lowered himself onto Blaine slowly, so slowly letting out a soft groan at the perfect stretch and burn. He would never get over the feeling of Blaine inside him, filling him, feeling him pulse and throb. Kurt fell forward a little, burying his face in Blaine's neck and breathing heavily, almost sobbing with relief and nails and fingertips fighting to find purchase on his sweat slick shoulders. Blaine had wrapped himself around him, arms circling his waist and hands clutching at his sides. "Gorgeous" he choked out "so f-fucking gorgeous Kurt and you can't even see it". Kurt keened, swivelling his hips and breathing raggedly against Blaine's neck, his body pressed so tightly that his cock rubbed against him, smearing precum on his taut abdomen.

 

Kurt rose up, Blaine's cock sliding out to the tip before slamming back down hard, pleasure shooting through him. He set a frantic pace, swivelling his hips and slamming down time and time again, grazing that spot inside him almost every time. Groans and moans, tumbled from him unabashedly, his body pulled taut and tense. Blaine's hands gripped hard at his hips, leaving fingertip bruises and guiding him with every thrust of his own. "O-oh shit, fuck Kurt!" He grunted, snapping his hips up into Kurt with more force, trying to hold back. Growing closer, he threaded his fingers into Kurt's damp hair, pulling him back gently, lips barely meeting. "S-so good baby, fuck ah ah". Blaine crashed their lips together, claiming Kurt in a kiss dirty and deep and perfect.

 

Blaine slammed up into him ceaselessly, hands clutching and grabbing at him every where as Kurt made high keening "ah ah ah" sounds into his mouth. He tore away from him, throwing his head back, eyes tight shut. All at once Kurt's body tensed, clamping down around Blaine as he started to come. He rode it out, still grinding frantically as he came in thick ropes, smearing against both his and Blaine's stomachs. He opened his eyes, vision swimming and light headed close to losing himself when Blaine keened, fucking keened, and his cock pulsed, coming hot and wet inside him.

 

Blaine slumped back against the headboard, pulling Kurt in and running gentle hands all over him. "Hey" he said, voice hushed and affectionate with a small sated smile gracing his lips "You okay?" Kurt nodded, blinking slowly and pushing wet curls from Blaine's forehead. He leaned in to kiss him and squeaked as Blaine shifted, still inside him. "Yeeeeah that's gotta be pretty gross" Blaine chuckled, scrunching his nose and moving to roll them over so he could pull out. "No" Kurt said quickly, holding on to Blaine's bicep and blushing when he raised an eyebrow. "I mean yeah it is kinda gross but can we stay, like this, for a little while?"

 

Blaine had to hide a slight wince already starting to become oversensitive but he grinned and nodded "Of course" he muttered, kissing him again. They were both content to stay closely entwined, not quite ready to let go yet.


	27. Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for severe withdrawal syptoms and allusions to past assualt.

Mornings quickly became their favourite time. The quiet and peacefulness it afforded was bliss for both Kurt and Blaine. Morning was before the sickness settled and Blaine felt light and almost free. Morning was lazy and slow and just for them. Kurt adored mornings with Blaine. He was the most himself at daybreak, sweet and just a little bit bashful, with bed tousled curls, bleary eyes and flushed, sleep warm cheeks. Blaine was always the one to wake first seeing as he would only sleep in shifts, falling in and out of sleep, but with Kurt actually sleeping and not fitfully dozing. It could be called creepy, but Blaine liked to watch Kurt sleep in the early morning, just for a little while. He liked seeing him so peaceful and calm, not having to see the constant worry in his eyes or the tension held in his body.

 

But by far their favourite thing was waking up. Slipping into a new day and realising that they had each other to spend it with; waking up to a sweet peppering of kisses, butterfly, Eskimo or the real deal, or waking to slow building heat, hot mouths, wet warmth and wandering hands. Sensual, slow and sleepy morning sex was (much to Blaine's delight) Kurt's speciality. It would leave them glowing whether they stopped or not. In fact on more than one occasion Cooper Anderson had copped an eyeful. It seems walking in on your baby brother going down on his boyfriend over an ebony grand piano and not even thinking to stop when said boyfriend points out they've been so very rudely interrupted, is a natural occurrence when your younger sibling is Blaine Anderson.

 

Sometimes, however, their mornings weren't always so great. The middle of Blaine's second week in the programme, just a few days after Kurt and Blaine's reconciliation and Blaine had another set back. It started with a nightmare, Blaine's whimpers and shouts had woken Kurt instantly but, having learnt from experience, he couldn't wake him. He had to watch as Blaine thrashed and convulsed beside him on the bed. He had to listen to Blaine's pained whines. Watch him cry and sob without being able to wipe the tears away. But worst of all was the talking, fragments of the dream made real in the sound of Blaine's broken pleading voice.

 

It was torture and Kurt fell deeper and deeper into despair with every moment that past but he couldn't leave him alone, not whilst knowing exactly what was going on behind the bedroom door. So Kurt cried and shook as the nightmare played out. An endless stream of "NO please don't" and "Stop it please", "please just stop, please please". All Kurt could do was grip Blaine's hand, willing his presence and reality to permeate and push away the dreams, it was an impossible notion, but he couldn't help but hope.

 

There was a lull in Blaine's pleading and Kurt held his breath hoping it would be over soon. But Blaine startled him with a piercing scream, the thrashing and pleading started a new but this time he wasn't begging for his own saviour, he was begging for Kurt's.

 

_"Please no let him go!"_

"Blaine honey please wake up for me?"

_"NO PLEASE NO STOP IT"_

"B-Blaine"

_"Please! You're hurting him!"_

"Please Blaine. Please please please"

_"Take me instead"_

"I love you, so much"

_"I'll do anything you want!"_

Blaine's imploring voice whispering his last plea sent Kurt over the edge, unable to hold back all the fear and misery any longer. He let it roll over him, terrifyingly forgetting to keep quiet and choking out rasping, violent sobs. Despite the horror and disgust building in his chest and rising to his flashing throat it made him fall even more in love with Blaine, if that was even possible. Protective and sacrificing even in the face of his worst nightmares.

 

Blaine snapped his eyes open at the sound of Kurt's choked cries, but this time he was actually there, not drifting trapped in some warped horror story version of reality. He lay still, panting, tears still clumping his eyelashes but he was awake. Casting his eyes around the darkened room he saw Kurt, curled in on himself, knees to his chest and sobbing.

 

In a matter of seconds Blaine had Kurt gathered in his arms, pressed close and tangled sweaty and tear stained in the sheets. A constant mantra of  _he's safe, he's safe, he's safe_  played over and over in his head as Kurt clutched at him. He rocked them back and forth, back and forth, cooing and stroking slightly trembling hands through his hair, holding on to him protectively. Eventually Kurt quietened and snuffled into Blaine's shirt before leaning up for a kiss. They kept it chaste, innocent sweet, Blaine was still scared still nervous still thinking that at any moment that looming figure would appear once again and snatch Kurt from him.

 

The silence stretched on only broken by Kurt's slowing breaths and Blaine's whispered words of comfort. God Blaine needed Kurt, but he was angry and frustrated and so completely distraught that with every set back and every block he wasn't getting any better and Kurt was suffering for it. Kurt‘s lips against his neck bought him back from bitterness and he glanced down to see Kurt mouth a small ‘thank you' before he drifted to sleep, wrapped securely in Blaine's arms.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

By the time Kurt woke up again Blaine had checked on him around twenty times, smoked six cigarettes, drunk three cups of coffee and thrown up twice. He was staring down at a blank piece of paper, trying to draw like he used to when things felt out of balance but he just couldn't put pencil to paper. He was itching all over, his eyes burning from the lack of a restful night's sleep. Blaine heard the soft padding of foot steps and was drawn back by the sight of Kurt, bleary eyed and looking radiant.

 

Kurt's smile was blinding, almost shy and seeing Blaine's demeanour, he approached with caution, wrapped up in what he'd dubbed the comfort sweater which was Kurt's favourite and also happened to belong to Blaine. It was the very same, big, thick emerald green sweater that Blaine had swaddled himself in feeling scared and vulnerable with his realised feelings for Kurt the morning after The Mist. Kurt fell in love with it, how it looked on Blaine, making him look so sweet and innocent and okay when the collar slipped to expose his bare collar bone and shoulders it was a lot sexy. How it felt against his skin, soft wool and so incredibly warm. How, no matter how many times he'd worn it, it still smelt like Blaine, sandalwood, cinnamon, coffee and cigarettes. It was all these things that made him feel close to Blaine especially when he was right there with him but still seemed so far away.

 

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulder, prying the pencil from his trembling hands. He sighed, slumping back into Kurt's embrace and tried to quell his shaking. Every minute his symptoms felt like they were escalating, spiralling out of his control and he was terrified.

 

"Can we talk about it?" Kurt asked, kissing his temple. Blaine didn't want to talk, he knew Kurt wanted to know everything, the nightmare and why there's a litter of ash on the balcony and why he had heard him running to the bathroom. There was so much, too much to explain and it just finally hammered home the fact that he was not coping, not really dealing with any of it. Blaine envied those who got into rehab, maybe if he was far away and isolated from everything else and not so afraid of hurting Cooper or Kurt  _again_  he could do it. Feel again and smile and not be so dependant on this thing ( _this drug Blaine because that's what it is, you were, you are addicted to heroin_ ) that destroyed almost everything Jake and Evan had left of him.

 

"Yeah baby, we can."


	28. Twenty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for slight allusions to a past assault.

Blaine Anderson was quiet by nature, he wasn't shy and he wasn't outspoken despite the fact he often spoke his mind. In times of trouble Blaine wasn't fond of talking but Kurt, Kurt was under his skin from the very first moment, he just knew how to draw it all out of him. So they sat, hands entwined over the kitchen counter and talked and talked and talked until late morning bled into late afternoon.

 

"W-what exactly did you dream about?" Kurt broached the subject hesitantly, seeing as Blaine was always so reluctant to divulge any information about the dreaded nightmares. But Blaine had gotten better at opening up, especially to Kurt. "It was fine at first, just me and you foolin' around in the locker room." Blaine winked at Kurt, but all he received was a tight lipped smile and a hard squeeze of his hand. "But t-then," he stuttered "but then he turned up and I was going to handle it but you wouldn't let me and h-he found you and he-he"

 

Kurt shushed him quietly before he could get any more worked up. Blaine couldn't put into words what he'd seen behind closed eyes. Describing it and telling Kurt just seemed to make it all the more real. It was already so vividly ingrained into his mind that he could practically hear, see and smell it. Not to mention what it would do to Kurt, if he were to know every gruesome detail of what Jake did to him, what Blaine had to  _watch_  Jake do to him. It left him feeling physically sick and unsettlingly protective and possessive. No way did Blaine want to let Kurt out of his sight that day, but it would have to wait because he had a plan.

 

"Blaine, it's okay, y-you don't have to tell me wh- what he did okay?"

"I really can't and I can't go through it again. I was thinking maybe I should see Trace about them, t-the nightmares I mean, and maybe Dr Lin too?"

"That sounds like a great idea honey!" And just like that Kurt was smiling brightly once more. A smile that told Blaine he was proud of him and Blaine couldn't have asked for anything more wonderful than a smile lighting up Kurt's eyes, there because of Blaine himself.

 

There was nothing, Blaine had learned, that was greater than the smile of one Kurt Hummel. The Blaine of the past would have proverbially slapped himself in the face for so saccharinely romanticising a smile but the Blaine of the present was so insanely in love that he could wax poetic about it until the earth fell from orbit and the stars all simultaneously combusted. Blaine was sickeningly crazy for Kurt Hummel, but that's okay because he was pretty cuckoo for Blaine too.

 

Apparently staring mindlessly, mouth agape and eyes adoring, at Kurt for too long made him quite uncomfortable so Blaine forced himself to stop immediately. "What are you doing tonight?" Blaine blurted out like a school boy asking out his crush.

"I don't know I thought I'd just hang here with you. I was thinking we could try that body paint again..." Kurt trailed off, blushing to the tips of his ears. No matter how much sex they had Kurt was never brash about it but he was getting bolder and god did it almost kill Blaine every time.

 

"Will you go out with me? Tonight. Please."

"Did you just - ask me out?"

"No - I mean - yes? I don't know." Blaine muttered nervously.

"Because we kinda already did the first date thing."

"That was NOT a date!"

 

Blaine sighed dejectedly. They'd been talking for a while about maybe going out. Blaine never left the apartment apart from his trip to the hospital and his appointments at the clinic and being cooped up all the time was not conducive to Blaine's programme or his sanity. He was going stir crazy, pacing the apartment, a short attention span and an even shorter temper. And the short temper was more often than not taken out on Kurt and he detested it. Kurt was almost constantly at the apartment, flitting from class, to work and then to Blaine's and as Blaine's unease grew so did the pressure on Kurt. Blaine couldn't remember a time Kurt had actually gone out and had fun since his relapse. Blaine just wanted to make sure Kurt wasn't giving up his own life just so Blaine didn't have to.

 

"I just want to see you have a good time for once."

"I am having a good time."

"Oh yeah? Babysitting your boyfriend, how exhilarating"

 

Kurt rolled his eyes, moving round the island to seat himself in Blaine's lap. In all honesty Kurt loved spending time with just Blaine, caring for him like he knew Blaine would for him. But it had been clear for a while that being shut away from the outside world had put a lot of strain on him.

 

"Let's go back to The Mist" Blaine suggested throwing caution to the wind.

"Are you sure? The Mist? Will you be alright there?"

"If you're trying to ask me if I'll be tempted if we go clubbing then the answer is no. Besides if you're worried we could always invite Cooper, as much as I hate having to have a chaperone..."

"It'll be safer if there's someone else to keep an eye on you." Kurt finished for him.

"I'm not a child."

"Oh I know, abs remember?"

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

After an hour of whining, thirty minutes of rather convincing kisses and a quick promise of ‘go out with me and you can use the body paint to paint me like a fucking canvas' Kurt finally caved. Cooper was called (and as a single father with the opportunity to go out for the night was ridiculously excited), last minute babysitting appointments were made, and Kurt spent an ungodly amount of time fixing his hair in the bathroom before Blaine had even showered.

 

After he'd showered, Kurt decided to distract Blaine from getting dressed and when Cooper let himself into the apartment he very narrowly missed finding the two in a very compromising position. Kurt sauntered out of the bedroom, clothes and hair still impeccable leaving Blaine sprawled out on the bed naked, panting and wrecked, desperately trying to regain the feeling in his legs so he could get up and put some clothes on.

 

Unable to take his time due to Cooper's incessant whining, yelling at him to get a move on, Blaine shuffled out of the bedroom trying to look as normal as possible and unsurprisingly failing. His hair was more of a mess than it usually was and a bright flush still stained the tops of his cheeks. "Woah major sex hair B" Cooper exclaimed ruffling Blaine's curls as Kurt and Blaine stared at each other. Needless to say Cooper noticed  _that_  look. "Oh for the love of- Let's just go!" And with that he dragged his boys out of the apartment, out of the building and on to the street.

 

Once out in the open air Blaine lit up a cigarette and pulled Kurt to him, wrapping his arms tightly round his waist as Kurt's hands fisted in his jacket. It was so familiar and in reality it was only just over a month ago that Blaine had been so close to Kurt in the chilly night air, in the exact same place, but it felt like an age had passed since then. The memory of that night, the hot mingle of breath and the crazed beat of his heart as Blaine edged closer, still only a mystery back then, never knowing what he'd been through, what they'd go through, what they'd become to each other.

 

Cooper wandered off toward The Mist chattering merrily as he went as if they were right behind him but time stood still for them. As Kurt watched, looking straight into smouldering hazel eyes as he inhaled and exhaled smoothly he could tell that Blaine was thinking of a time when they were free to tease, touch, dance and  _love,_  before either of them knew it. Before everything was overshadowed by the memory of abuse, fear, violence, drugs and sex. In that moment Kurt knew that all Blaine would want was something pure, untainted by his past or his own self destructive nature. And he was hoping that something would be Kurt.

 

Blaine breathed out a stream of curling sliver smoke and tilted his head, his hand slipping to grip Kurt's hip. "You wanna try it baby?" He whispered a soft smirk playing across his lips as he stared into eyes like galaxies, today a plethora of emerald greens and midnight blues. Sentimentally and word for word Blaine asked, but this time it was without that roguish bravado, without the guarded eyes and rough advances. The act had vanished. Sure Blaine still had that primal lust, the cheeky grin and that sexy dangerousness with him but it was  _real_ , not exaggerated ten fold to attract but still keep everyone at an arms length.

 

That was what he loved the most about that moment, Blaine was still Blaine, that no matter how much Blaine thought he was or said he was, he wasn't broken, not at all, he wasn't fading away. Blaine was a cacophony of contradictions, so cryptic it made Kurt's head spin sometimes but over time and with Kurt, and only Kurt, he'd begun to unravel.

 

"Okay" he nodded and breathed in, letting the familiar burn of smoke trickle down his throat and into his lungs. He felt Blaine's fingertips glide across his throat and Adam's apple just like before, eyes transfixed as the smoke rose from his lips in a stuttering exhale. Kurt shivered and Blaine placed the hand with the cigarette on his back, palm spread wide, careful not to drop ash him. Blaine pushed gently, causing him to arch into him, their hips flush as Blaine kissed and mouthed at Kurt's neck. A small whimper escaped his lips as Blaine whispered a hoarse ‘I love you' against his skin.

 

So rarely uttered in English the phrase took on a whole knew meaning. It was a language they could both fully comprehend and never before had it seemed so concrete so unwavering, so much like forever.


	29. Twenty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for alcohol consumption.

When Blaine walked into the club, Kurt's hand firmly in his own, he was welcomed back by several people like some sort of hero. It didn't matter much though, every person only looked vaguely familiar and he couldn't remember any names so that was reason enough to assume that they were from  _that_  crowd and therefore made them no one of importance. Cooper hovered at their side like a bodyguard during the bemusing interactions when in actuality Cooper as a bodyguard was lacking because it was likely he couldn't throw a punch as well as Blaine could anyway.

 

It was overwhelming at first, to be in a place packed with strangers after weeks of only having Kurt, Cooper, Trace and Dr Lin for company. Truth be told it made him more than a little anxious to be in that kind of environment again, head filled with the buzzing of the baseline and the heady sent of sweat and alcohol. His palms started to sweat and he kept Kurt close for a while, not quite willing to trust himself yet, unable to forget the euphoric rush he used to feel every night here, he'd tried everything in the book to make the bitterness go away before he settled on opiates.

 

They dragged themselves through the throng to the bar, Kurt and Cooper both ordering drinks hesitantly seeing as Blaine wasn't going to touch a drop, not yet anyway. Alcohol had been a substitute method for quite sometime and he had become wary of every substance that was capable of intoxication, apart from Kurt of course. With Kurt relaxed and glowing by his side his confidence grew quickly, despite his history at clubs and bars there was still something that appealed to him, the thrumming atmosphere, electric and popping like firecrackers and the music, to just get lost in the rhythm of a song and a crowd of undulating bodies.

 

The energy of his surroundings somewhat revitalised Blaine, eyes taking on that shine and smoulder Kurt had loved the sight of since the fist time they went to The Mist. It was like the cocky ghost of Blaine's past had possessed him, suave and mysterious in a way that made Kurt short of breath and weak in the knees. But with the regained confidence came annoyance.

 

"Cooper you don't quite have to - hover so much go have fun!" Blaine shouted over the music, turning away from the bar and Kurt to look at his brother. "I'm not hovering," he said defensively "I'm keeping an eye on you, besides I don't-"

"-trust me, you don't trust me." Blaine finished scornfully "I know I don't trust me either." Before Cooper had the chance to protest, Blaine whirled round after being tapped on the shoulder. Kurt was shooting him a panicked look from across the bar, jerking his head at a pink cocktail placed in front of him by a guy with short, dark hair. He looked nice enough, timid smile, anxious dark eyes and blushing like a school boy.

 

"What?" Blaine mouthed at him.

"He bought me a drink! Didn't even ask!" Kurt mouthed back exaggeratedly, twisting his body away so the guy couldn't see what he was saying.

"Bold move" he said with a smirk.

"What do I do?" Kurt replied desperately.

"What do you want to do?" He paused thoughtfully for a moment, smiling apologetically at the waiting guy before turning back.

"Blaine I can't I'm your-"

"You're mine," Blaine cut him off "so accept it, flirt a little it's fun to see other guys pining over a gorgeous man they can't have." Kurt gave him a dubious look. "I promise I won't get jealous" a perfect eyebrow arched "okay much! I won't get jealous much!" Kurt smiled sweetly.

"I love you." Blaine mouthed a quick go! Before turning back to Cooper who looked very interested in his beer.

 

"It's not that I don't trust you Blaine," he started staring at him intently with honest eyes "I just worry." Blaine sighed, running a hand through his hair and pulling his brother into a one armed hug. Cooper may not have always been there for him, had lacked the knowledge he needed to help his brother on countless occasions but no matter what Blaine went through Cooper gave him the power to see it through till the end, till he'd overcome every fear and doubt holding him back. He knew how to push him and it was that drive that got him there, on the rocky road to drug free recovery.

 

"That's why we're here" he said "I stress you out beyond belief on a daily bases, I just want my beautiful boyfriend and the best big brother in the world to have a little freedom for the night, a little time away from treatments, appointments, withdrawal, episodes, all the trouble I am."

"You aren't trouble." Cooper muttered weakly and Blaine smiled widely.

"I'm a whole world of trouble!" he chuckled "But think of this as a thank you, or not because I could never thank you two enough for saving me the way you have - think of this as a cheers, for being the ones I love, who love me so unconditionally."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Cooper seemed to disappear into the crowd not long after Kurt had finished his drink which was Blaine's cue to move in. He smirked at the man Kurt had been coyly flirting with as he wrapped his arms around his slim waist from behind and sucked a faint bruise just underneath his ear. Kurt whined faintly in the back of his throat and Blaine delighted in the shocked and utterly crushed look on the other man's face, causing him to slink away dejectedly. "Blaine you could've let me let him down gently" Kurt admonished weakly.

"No fun" Blaine mumbled between motioning to the bartender for another drink and licking at Kurt's neck.

"You just like showing off." He huffed out, wiggling on the spot and downing his drink.

 

"True," Blaine said lowly as he span Kurt around in his arms and pulled him into a bruising kiss "it turns out I just really don't like sharing." Kurt shivered in his arms and it thrilled Blaine every time he got such a reaction out of Kurt. Kurt was powerful, so used to being in control, calm and composed. Blaine knew he was privileged when Kurt would simply melt in front of him with only the briefest of touches and the choicest of possessive words. He wouldn't take it for granted or ever abuse it. Kurt would relinquish just a little bit of that control and trust Blaine with his body and with his heart.

 

They moved out onto the dance floor, letting their bodies take over and movement memory slot them together like puzzle pieces. Blaine could feel all eyes on them, and the majority of them on Kurt. The alcohol flowing through him, only a few drinks but enough for Kurt, left him loose and uninhibited. He wasn't drunk, by any means, but light with that warm feeling coiling in his stomach partially aided by Blaine solidly pressed up behind him. Blaine adored Kurt like this, feeding off the attention he knew he was getting and getting bolder under every hungry stare and appreciative gaze. It made Blaine grip tighter, crowd closer and grind harder and it was just the reaction Kurt craved.

 

A man with spiked black hair and hooded eyes started in on them and Blaine's glare could've set the man on fire. He smirked and Blaine's only response was to slip his hands underneath Kurt's blood red shirt, grip the skin tight and possessively before marking his neck, glaring at the man until he backed off. "Christ" Kurt moaned "It's like your on heat tonight or something." Blaine grinned and spun him around to face him but Kurt stumbled, swaying on the spot a little, cloudy eyes blinking slowly.

 

"Woah there! Are you feeling okay?" He muttered concernedly, holding him by the shoulders and feeling his skin burn through the fabric "‘mfine, just kinda dizzy and light headed all of a sudden." Kurt mumbled with a small smile, nuzzling into Blaine's chest. "Well do you wanna go home? We should-"

"NO!" he was cut off loudly "Just need t-to go to the bathroom." Kurt slipped from Blaine's arms and stumbled off into the crowd. "Wait Kurt!" He yelled at his back but he soon disappeared into the throng. Blaine staggered after him, worried about Kurt, sick and alone in the crowd. He pushed through the hulk of bodies and crashed into the men's bathroom. He called out for him and checked every stall, but Kurt wasn't there.

 

Kurt was an adult he could look after himself, but he was ill or hurt or something, on his own with countless strangers in a place that had been and possibly could be dangerous. Blaine searched every inch of the club, the bar, the booths, the dance floor even outside and the alleys a block around the establishment. He was barely breathing, verging on collapsing into dust when he stumbled into someone.

 

"Woah bro slow down" Cooper steadied him with a hand on his arm.

"Coop I can't find Kurt!"

"What do you mean you can't find him? What the hell happened Blaine?" Cooper looked almost as panicked as Blaine, almost though. The dread sunk to the bottom of his stomach as soon as he remembered. "The back room, we need to get in the back room" he stalked off towards the front of the club,  _how could he have forgotten_ , to the right of the bar was a door, painted the same rich crimson to match the walls and disappear, remain hidden, remain a secret. "Slow down and tell me what's going on" Cooper demanded pulling him back.

 

"Kurt is sick Coop! And someone's taken him - I-I think t-they've taken him."


	30. Twenty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for drug use, implied prostitution, violence, derogatory terms and a slight non-con element.

Blaine burst into the back room and almost ran straight back out again. He would've run before but Kurt was somewhere beyond that room and god was that terrifying. Cooper's sharp intake of breath stopped him from seizing up completely yet he couldn't find it in him to voice a reply when Cooper mentioned something about the police. Informing the authorities meant complications, questions to be asked and answered but it also meant safety, there was no way they'd go free after this, their place would be raided they'd lose everything, and it's just what they deserved.

 

The place was dark and so familiar that the itch beneath his skin began to flare up with vigour, incessant and maddening. It burnt and the blood in his veins pounded in his ears, made his head swim as he choked back vomit at the stench of stale alcohol, sex and scorched aluminium. It was somewhere Blaine had only ever recently seen in nightmares, a place he had prayed he'd never end up again.

 

Cooper shuffled into the room, staying close to Blaine, his eyes flitting around the room never willing to land and take in the scene in front of him. The people surrounding them either stared listlessly or barely noticed their presence at all. Blaine fought hard to shut it all out, there was a man on his knees in the corner, eyes blank and glazed over as the man above him fucked his mouth, probably for a fee and his stomach lurched and his vision blurred and the only thing that held him together was  _finding Kurt_. His eyes travelled the room, across countless pale young men, popping pills and snorting coke from every available surface, until he spotted a boy hidden in the shadows by the far wall.

 

It was like looking straight into a mirror image of his past. The boy had mousey curly hair, matted with sweat and flopping into his dark, solemn eyes. There was so much of himself in the boy that it was painful to watch him yet he just couldn't look away. He was sitting on the floor shirtless, with pants undone and a tourniquet tied around his bicep. Blaine stepped toward him and then stopped, frozen feet away. He remembered everything about what it was like to be that boy. Wondered if he'd be better off if he was charged for possession, if prison would help him clean up or set him up for the biggest fall a kid no older than seventeen could ever experience.

 

Blaine hovered over the boy and he didn't even look up, too focussed on his fix to care and for Blaine it was that obliviousness, the sheer desperation wracking the young boy's body that hit him the hardest. In that moment Blaine realised that they were no different, that Blaine was still scared and blinded and fragile, he still felt that underlying need, but it was ebbing away for him, excruciatingly slowly but fading day by day in a way that it wasn't for the boy, because Blaine had help and Blaine had hope.

 

He bent down beside the kid and ripped the syringe right out of his hands. He held it away from them both and was greeted with a pair of terrified, wide, brown eyes. The boy looked so fucking scared that Blaine had to remember how to breathe again. The syringe shook in Blaine's grasp as he bought it closer, inspecting it tentatively because only when you're desperate do you contemplate taking your chances with a  _dirty_ , maybe even  _used_  needle.

 

"What are you doing?" The boy asked, his voice scratchy and Blaine knew, he knew exactly why it sounded like that but he refused to let himself think, like a wall had been constructed and beyond his head was blocked and fuzzy. "I'm saving your life." He said, calmly, softly as the boy's eyes pleaded and begged him to hand him back the hypodermic syringe. "I need it." The boy choked out and swiftly, with shaking hands and nimble fingers, Blaine bought the head of the needle down on the floor, snapping it before popping out the plunger and dumping the contents of the cylinder into a shag carpet to his right.

 

"No, you don't." He replied with all the tenderness and surety he'd gained since he was just a lost little boy with nothing else to lose. The boy sobbed and started to sway, "you don't understand!" he yelled "I had to-" and before he could finish Blaine grabbed his hand, trembling just like his own. "Look at me." Blaine asked sternly, lifting his head with fingers under his chin, forcing him to meet his eye. "I know" he whispered "I know" and he willed everything he'd ever felt or done or had to do into his unwavering gaze and just those few words. When the boy's eyes widened in understanding and something a kin to admiration Blaine knew he just might have the chance to save lives that night.

 

"What's your name?"

"A-Adam." He stuttered in reply.

"Hi Adam, I'm Blaine I don't have much time. I want to help you, I can help you if that's what you want but right now I need your help." Blaine said urgently. Adam paused, looking apprehensive but never letting go of Blaine's hand. He nodded.

"Take me to Evan."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

If Blaine thought simply entering the room was horrifying it was nothing compared to moving through it. He forced himself to just focus on getting out of the room, into the corridor, just turning that corner but it felt like trying to run through water. He was adamant that Cooper and Adam stay close, don't talk to anybody, don't look anybody in the eye, in fact don't look at anybody at all; keep your eyes ahead and feet moving.

 

Turning the last corner they approached quickly, the door at the end of the hall looking ominous and sinister. Adam was shaking and Cooper's strides were stilted and anxious but Blaine just walked with purpose, almost breaking into a run as they drew near. Dread seeped into his veins, his blood running cold as the heat in his chest flared with panic and anger. He threw open the door.

 

Within seconds Blaine had Evan by the throat backed against the wall. Through the open doorway he was the first thing he saw, draping himself over the love of his life's lifeless body. Dirty, greedy, trembling hands pawed at the exposed skin of his torso as Kurt whimpered beneath him, dazed and scared when he could barely lift a hand to attempt to push him away.

 

There was shouting and the scramble of feet and he vaguely registered the sound of a sickening crunch as Cooper's fist must have connected with Zach's jaw. "Is he okay?! Take him! Fucking make sure he's okay please!" Blaine yelled back at Adam who had pulled Kurt into his lap muttering at him to stay with him as his cloudy eyes threatened to slip shut. "I think i-it's GHB, he-he's losing consciousness!" Blaine's hand tightened on Evan's throat ignoring his laboured and choked off breaths. "FUCK! Just try and keep him awake please!"

 

He should've been the one to hold Kurt, make him safe again but this was the last straw. Evan was not going to get away with hurting Kurt. He was on the brink of tears when suddenly Evan was laughing. Manically giggling, choking as not quite enough air entered his lungs with each breath between fits of laughter.

 

"Oh Blainey," he sing songed eyes wild and hazy, pupils constricted almost to pinpoints "now I know why you like this one so much, such a gorgeous l-little-"

"Say it. I dare you. Say it and I swear to God I will make sure you never breathe a word again." Blaine growled.

"Blaine-" Cooper interrupted meekly, it was meant as a warning but he didn't heed it. Both brothers knew that if Blaine wasn't the one pinning Evan to the wall by his throat then it would just be Cooper instead. Evan tilted his head as much as he could in Blaine's grasp, trying to get as close as possible and smiling tauntingly.

 

"Sluuut" He fell to his knees after two blows to the stomach.

"What do you want from me?!" Blaine screamed and he lost it. His steady composure and control evaporated and he lashed out, hitting Evan again and again as he fought back. He expected each thud of fist to flesh to satisfy him, make the venom and bitterness and contempt flood out of him but with every blow it just got worse. Cooper restrained him when he was spitting blood, thrashing and writhing to escape his hold.

 

"Come back to me Blaine." Evan wheezed his face swollen and marred. "You were our best customer."

"Oh yeah?" Blaine smirked. "Not anymore. I'm bad for business." Distant sirens blared and grew louder, the bang of the heavy back room door hitting the wall and the drone of dozens of heavy footsteps echoed down the dingy corridors and into the room.

 

Blaine wrenched himself from Cooper's hold to kneel before Kurt and Adam. "Kurt, Kurt baby are you with us?" He muttered soothingly, brushing hair back from his forehead. Kurt nodded weakly, his blue eyes desperately trying to focus on Blaine's face. Blaine did up the buttons on Kurt's shirt quickly and with trembling hands getting his jacket back from Adam to wrap around him.

 

"I- Let's go home. We need to go home."

"But what about the police?"

"You weren't anonymous they'll find us. Please can we- can we just go home?"

Cooper didn't reply but turned to crash through the back door and out into the alley behind the club to hail a cab. Blaine lifted Kurt into his arms, wobbling a little under the dead weight as he made his way to the door, stopping and huffing out an annoyed breath when Adam didn't follow.

 

"Come on." He called jerking his head in the direction of the street.

"But I-" Adam stuttered out shaking his head.

"You're coming with us kid, for tonight at least." Blaine left no room for argument and shuffled out of the door, down the alley and on toward the awaiting cab. Adam followed quickly, folding his arms around him as the chilly night air whipped at his bare skin.

 

How Blaine tended to his boyfriend, so sweet and careful, made Adam's heartache. Despite how similar their circumstances used to be Adam envied Blaine. His fight, his care and his love for the man in his arms was overwhelming as he sat with him in his lap in the back of the taxi, rocking them back and forth and whispering soothing words and sweet nothings into his hair as tears and blood and bruises stained his stricken face.

 

That night Adam had been offered help, something he'd been crying out for since the very beginning. He knew that Blaine could be his chance at finding it, and he also knew that Blaine just might have saved his life.


	31. Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a history of drug use, the effects of GHB, mentions of withdrawal.

Time slowed to a crawl. Blaine barely let Cooper touch Kurt as he carried him through the door and into the bathroom. Adam stood back in the main room, he had no time to marvel at the décor or think idly about how safe he felt surrounded by these people. He just felt his stomach churn at the thought of what could've happened to Kurt, to what could happen to him if he got in any deeper with Evan.

 

He wandered through the kitchen and living room, unwilling to sit anywhere or touch anything. The space felt sacred yet haunted, the whispered words of comfort and quiet whimpers drifting through the space like lost souls. For hours he didn't even see Blaine and only once did he see Cooper, striding out with hair askew, the sleeves of his shirt wet to retrieve a glass of water and then carry it back to the bathroom.

 

Cooper was jittery, a little shaken but overall he was calm, relieved that no more damage had been done. He hovered in the bathroom as Blaine coaxed Kurt into the shower, after Kurt had mumbled about being able to smell him and begged him to do something about it. The look on Blaine's face was heartbreaking and with every wince and mewl and loll of Kurt's head his expression grew pained.

 

They sat on the bottom of the shower, Blaine too weak to hold Kurt up, the water cool to wash the remnants of hot, grabbing hands from Kurt's delicate skin. Kurt wouldn't let them leave for a long time. He was still disorientated but he was aware of what happened, what could've happened.

 

It didn't hit full force until they were in the bedroom, Kurt having drunk glass after glass of water to try and flush the chemicals out of his system. The effects of the GHB had lessened but not dissipated and he felt helpless, vulnerable in a way that terrified him. With Blaine curled around him it was hard to separate past from present, clinging closer as well as trying to push him away but Blaine's hold was firm, unwavering. Kurt's pushes were weak and when he pulled Blaine close the tug on his shirt was barely there.

 

Seven hours later as the sun began to rise Kurt fell asleep in Blaine's trembling arms. The apartment was deathly quiet, his voice hushed as he whispered his fears to a sleeping Kurt, brushing at pale skin and through hair with unsteady hands. He kissed him again and again, fleetingly, scared that anything more than a peck would startle him, his breath was uneven, fitful. Tired eyes and buzzing veins, a boy who needed his help and a boyfriend who currently needed it even more so all lead to one thing. Exhaustion, settled deep in his bones, the fight to hold everything together like swimming against the current.

 

Cooper came to watch over Kurt after a while, battling with Blaine to at least get some sleep but that was impossible. Blaine fought and fought until Cooper put his big brotherly foot down and with all the authority he had gained from being a father told him to get the fuck out. Because "Kurt's okay, he's gonna be okay."

 

Blaine stumbled out into the living room and just stood completely still. The dark room engulfed him, so full now. Scatters of him and Kurt, KurtandBlaine everywhere, anywhere. Sketches on the floor, sketches in-between couch cushions, hand prints on the furniture and walls, Kurt's silk robe, Blaine's glasses. It was a home now, but why did it feel so unsafe, so compromised?

 

Because home wasn't a place, it was a person and that person happened to be Kurt. If the walls were stripped bare and nothing remained but the two of them it still would've felt like home, like heaven. It felt right; nothing like what home was before, a fancy big house empty with the sounds of silence, an apartment that felt like a prison cell.

 

Kurt was everything but no matter how much Blaine had begged for it in the past he wasn't a saviour. Blaine Anderson saved himself, he was rough around the edges, but braver and stronger than he could have ever fathomed and it was Kurt who taught him that, who showed him with every glance, with every touch, kiss, smile, sigh, moan and laugh. With everything he was he showed Blaine how to get better, dared him to do it for himself and for love.

 

With one swoop of his arm he sent the sketches flying into the air, fluttering angrily to the ground, settling to spread across the floor, covering it like a canvas of  _them_. He swore that one day he'd document everything, in paint, pencil or in pictures. Still images of the life in both of them.

 

"You okay?" Blaine heard the voice echo from the kitchen,  _oh of course the kid_.

"I'm not my best," Blaine replied heavily, "and I'm guessing neither are you."

"And how would you know?" Adam snapped back.

"Trust me, I know." He said with a grim smile.

"Really now?"

 

Blaine slammed his arms down on top of the kitchen island, palms facing up where scars and track marks covered the once smooth, tan skin of his forearms. "Really." Adam stuttered out a breath at the sight of them, old and fading but still serving as a grizzly reminder.

 

"I'll spell it out for you shall I," Blaine said harshly, his voice bitter and almost booming in the dark apartment. Adam was messing with a man that could've lost his everything the night prior. He often didn't let anger or frustration get the better of him but his eyes flashed dangerously and his frame tensed considerably. "My history with heroin goes back about four years. I'm currently in therapy and part of a month long rehabilitation programme. I'm about to enter the third week. Withdrawal is kicking my ass. Shakes, lethargy, restlessness, vomiting, muscle cramps, vertigo. I suffer from trauma induced insomnia and night terrors. I have been through hell."

 

Adam was silent, staring at a gasping Blaine in complete shock. Blaine trembled and glared down at his arms. "I'm sure you've been through hell too. But I understand Adam. I get it okay? The things I've had to do, the things you've had to do. You may not like being told this but we're more similar than you think."

 

Adam broke. His skin was burning and itching and his stomach rolled with fear and anger and revulsion, revisiting every second of what he'd had to do. He collapsed to the kitchen floor, desperately trying to catch his breath as sobs wracked his body, shaking without control. And despite all his impertinence, despite being a total stranger that Blaine shouldn't have even graced with a second glance he held him. He held him, tight with one arm around his waist and one arm firm around his shoulders. Adam sagged into him, loosing the battle with his body and mind and not once did Blaine falter. He didn't speak, just placated him with sure hands and soothing sounds.

 

Kurt was lucky, he could see that. Blaine was brave and strong in ways he didn't even know were possible and with a capacity for love and compassion that was beyond all measures. There was no doubt that Blaine would be willing to go to the ends of the Earth for those he cared about, and Adam was grateful to just have a minuscule amount of his concern. It was ridiculous but he was young and impressionable and Blaine was quickly becoming his idol.

 

Suddenly Adam felt something heavy drape around his shoulders, something thick with the smell of paint, cinnamon and leather. Blaine was pulling his leather jacket tight around him. "Here take this, it's yours." Blaine said softly, smiling lopsidedly with tired eyes as he patted and stroked the old leather. "I couldn't, I don't need-"

"Take it," Blaine interrupted, "Kurt's been dying to get me into some designer version of it anyway."

 

Adam smiled weakly, shrugging on the jacket and tugging down the sleeves. He smoothed his hands across the warm leather before shoving his hands into the pockets. His hand immediately came into contact with a piece of paper, folded neatly and tucked into a corner. He pulled it out and unfolded it carefully, Blaine watching him do so intently.

 

It was a photograph of Kurt and Blaine. They were sitting by the window, Kurt in between Blaine's legs, pressed back to chest. Bright sunlight streamed over them, making them almost glow with happiness as Kurt threw his head back onto Blaine's shoulder laughing and Blaine's nose and eyes scrunched up in amusement. It was the little things that brought a lump to his throat. The way one of Kurt's hands was wound into Blaine's hair, the way the other hand was entwined with Blaine's. The way Blaine was cradling Kurt with his body, arm wrapped snugly around his waist. The way Kurt was clearly wearing Blaine's sweater, lounging in his embrace so breathtakingly at ease.

 

"You're in love." Adam stated and Blaine smiled stroking reverent fingertips over Kurt's pictured form.

"I guess we are." He replied with a goofy grin, his eyes alight.

"I hope I find my Kurt some day." Adam sighed and Blaine chuckled.

"You will. One day when you're better, you'll find them. A crowded room, a city street, a lecture hall and you'll see them and think to yourself ‘oh there you are I've been looking for you forever'."

 

"Was Kurt what you'd been looking for?"

"No."

"Then wha-?"

"I was looking for my saviour,"

"But you found?"

"Angelo mio. My angel."


	32. Thirty One

For many people hurt means many different things. It can mean scratches and bruises and scars. It can mean crying yourself to sleep every night. It can mean screaming at the top of your lungs until your throat is raw and you daren't whisper another word. It can mean turning your back and running until you fall. For Kurt hurt means all these things and tenfold more.

 

He'd lost hours into infinity and gained sleepless nights. It was hurt like a hurricane, chaos until he reached the eye of the storm where everything felt hollow and false. Safe barely existed past Blaine's front door. Quiet was deafening. Noise was constantly startling. Touch meant pain. Raised voices meant anger. Whispers went unwanted. Kisses were craved yet stifling.

 

Blaine did all he could, as did Cooper and even Adam. In all truthfulness Blaine felt his resolve crumbling. It wasn't easy, there is never anything easy about having a loved one bruised and scarred and relying on you to make it all go away. After the third breakdown Blaine begged and pleaded Kurt to join him in counselling with Trace and it helped, slowly. And it hurt Blaine a whole lot more than he had anticipated. To hear every detail was excruciating. He listened to every word, needing to understand and feel just how Kurt had felt, desperate to use the knowledge to help and comfort him. They sat together in the dusty studio, on rickety chairs as unstable as themselves. They talked until there was nothing else to tell, nothing else to drag from the depths of their damaged souls.

 

If anything hearing everything had the potential to make them so much stronger, as individuals and as KurtandBlaine. And it did, in ways that no one else on Earth could begin to comprehend. They had such an intricate knowledge of what they'd both been through that it was impossible for them to not understand, to not just  _get_  each other so effortlessly. So through the pain and the fear they fought and they were triumphant, the greatest victory being the simple, uncomplicated tether, reinforced and binding them into something complete.

 

The beginning of Blaine's last week in the programme found Kurt and Blaine on their own in the apartment for the first time in days. Cooper had left to drop Adam off at Elmbank Rehabilitation Centre. Blaine learnt that Adam was a minor, not even seventeen and a runaway. His parents disowned him (for reasons too hurtful that he never spoke of it) so he ran, decided that if they didn't want him then he'd find someone who did. His first night in the city and it all came crashing down pretty quickly. Desperate for comfort and affection and drowning in grief, it started with a quick fuck in some dingy apartment and a couple grams. Blaine knew how it felt, their circumstances were different but not by much. He listened, and talked about his own experiences, how ashamed and dirty and disgusting he had felt, how he got back on track, how he wanted Adam to know that he wasn't alone, that he could be okay again.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

With their farewells said and promises to stay in touch made, Adam left with Cooper, and Kurt and Blaine were left miraculously alone and worry free. It was as close to bliss as they'd ever been and it struck Blaine that it was exactly what Blaine had always been looking for. Exactly what he'd always wanted then... and forever. He wanted the cherished kisses with their eyes closed and the drag of fingertips over heated skin to never end. He was bold enough to think that he'd never let it. So on that rare day for them and them alone they revelled in it.

 

They made love (and Blaine had scoffed at it being called that but couldn't deny that it was undoubtedly what it was) on top of the sheets and then in the shower. They cooked together and Blaine refused to eat the Avocado, because  _I've only eaten it once Kurt but I know I hate it and it keeps ending up in my kitchen and I keep throwing it off the balcony_. To which Kurt replied that he hoped he hadn't  _Blaine_ _because that could hurt someone_. And Blaine admitted that he hadn't, he'd just been throwing it at Cooper when Kurt's back was turned.

 

Kurt spent half an hour chasing Blaine around the apartment because Blaine had  _accidentally_  loosened the tie on Kurt's silk robe and let it fall to the ground in front of the wall of windows when he wasn't wearing anything underneath. Surprisingly it took Kurt a while to notice, but when he did Blaine was off in a shot giggling manically as his bare feet pounded and skidded down the hall. He ended up darting into the bedroom and the moment Kurt found him Blaine had the silk robe on the floor and Kurt against the wall.

 

The playfulness was what reminded them that they were getting better, that they could let themselves just be without happening to guilt themselves into rejecting it out of fear that they weren't good enough. They were perfect for each other, in the way that Kurt was unafraid to snort in between giggles when Blaine made him laugh and Blaine wasn't afraid to give out all the gory details when Kurt asked him how he's feeling. It's not a fairytale, though it felt like it sometimes. It's not a fantasy, not some idealistic whimsy born from two artists with passion in their hearts and delirium in their heads. It was real, was misshapen and lopsided, dirty and gritty but it was honest and perfect despite its imperfections.

 

Because Blaine hates Avocado and Kurt loves Cheesecake. Because Blaine is trying to see how long he can hold out before Kurt wins and rejuvenates his wardrobe with a little designer pizzazz. Because Kurt has reluctantly agreed to let Blaine teach him how to box but keeps getting distracted and ultimately forgets the difference between a jab and a right hook. Because they love every little nuance of each other with pride and fearlessness.

 

As the sun began to set, their bodies streaked with paint and smudged with charcoal, they danced. The lights of the city shone bright and barely reached them, instead swathed in the crimson glow of the setting sun. It was the only light in the apartment, everywhere else but the living room hidden in the shadows. Music trickled through old, crackling speakers, slow and distant but wrapping them safely in its melody. Blaine's hands slipped in the silk at Kurt's waist and it just made him grip tighter, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight as they swayed to the music. Kurt's fingers were stroking through his curls, his face buried in Blaine's neck planting gentle kisses there like promises. They danced with their eyes closed, spinning so slowly that they were barely moving at all.

 

Blaine hummed low in his throat sated and content and Kurt chuckled from where he was nuzzling his neck. "Will it always be like this?" He asked with a sigh but Blaine didn't answer. He just smiled and kissed Kurt's hair, breathing deep, breathing him in. He got lost in it; Kurt holding him and humming along, the vibration of it thrumming through his chest and seeping into his bones.

 

They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't notice Cooper slide through the door. They didn't notice the tears in his eyes as he watched his little brother dance, so happy and so in love with someone who finally felt the same. He took a picture on his phone, knowing this was a moment that had to be cherished in any and everyway possible. They'd thank him later.

 

Even when they felt Cooper's presence and the music stopped playing they didn't stop dancing.


	33. Thirty Two

Thursday found the apartment bustling with activity. Friday was to be the last session, a final chance to complete their projects and present their portfolios. The day left no room for their usual slow and sweet morning, waking up at an hour that Kurt deemed _bright and early_  and Blaine deemed  _fucking ungodly_. The entire day was dedicated to their art. The easels where set up in the living room, paint pallets and brushes resting between them on a chipped side table they'd found at a market. Blaine had bought it simply because Kurt had fallen in love with it.

 

Sharing a work space was so easy for Kurt and Blaine, even though their techniques were vastly different. Kurt used up relatively little space, his brushes were neat, his paints and colours ordered from frequently used to highlights whereas Blaine was everywhere. Blaine could only work on his canvas intensely for up to half an hour before wandering off and noting something down or moving to retrieve some other tool only slightly necessary from the cupboard in the hall. Kurt smiled fondly as he watched his profile, cigarette hanging from his lip, his eyes squinting in concentration as he marked minutely on the canvas propped up in front of him.

 

Cooper was in and out sporadically. Dropping off groceries he'd taken the liberty of purchasing while Kurt and Blaine were in their ‘artsy haze'. Surprisingly, he'd crashed through the door just after noon, arms burdened with grocery bags and a small pink backpack. Blaine was in tears the moment he laid eyes on her. She'd rushed to him, hopping and jumping over a stray brush or sketch and flew into his arms. She peppered his face with sweet kisses, giggling and grinning in all her childish glory.

 

"Mi sei mancata Belle," Blaine choked out, settling her on his hip and stroking a hand through her long brown hair. Arabella sighed and rest her head on his shoulder, turning her big eyes on a tearful Kurt. "You been looking after Uncle B for me Mister Kur-" Cooper coughed loudly "Oops" she giggled. "I'll start over."

 

"Have you been looking after Uncle B for me Uncle K?" She finished her toothy grin impossibly wide as she gave her father an exaggerated wink. Kurt just gaped at them all as he closed his arms around both Arabella and Blaine. Blaine had his nose buried in Bella's hair, his hazel eyes swimming with tears and peaking up at him; smile wide with love and  _happiness_.

 

"Guys you do know Bella is my kid right?" Cooper interrupted, as he nonchalantly began to pack away the groceries. Blaine blushed, head filled with images of his own little boy with crystal blue eyes and dark unruly curls scampering around the house, painting like his dads. He was flustered by the sudden prospect of the future, a future he never thought he'd have, a future he certainly wanted and one glance in Kurt's direction assured him that he wanted the same. Blaine set Arabella back on the ground and waited until she'd skipped off to help Cooper before dragging Kurt toward him for a kiss full of promises.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

However easy I was unfortunately for Kurt, working with Blaine proved to be slightly counter productive. His tendency to never standstill and work in a constant state of what he could only assume was organised chaos distracted him. In addition on Blaine's so called ‘breaks' he wouldn't leave Arabella alone. He asked her questions about what he'd missed, helped her paint, chased her, sang and danced until they were breathless and ‘whoops Uncle B has to work now honey, keep working on that princess picture you've got going there, looking good!'.

 

Kurt couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed. That smile and that laugh was something so rare, something unbelievably precious to him that he couldn't help but smile fondly as he turned back to his piece. He was nearly finished anyway. He'd left the ears and eyes of the wolves last, trying to focus all of his energy on the tufts of fur and the light in powerful hazel eyes. He drew his arm back from the canvas, biting his lip as he leant into the rough paint slick hands slipping under his tank to grip his waist. He could feel his smile against his neck; feel the contentment and joy thrumming in the air.

 

Blaine was better, not fine but better. He'd been worse; he was most definitely  _getting_  better. It didn't mean that all of a sudden the withdrawal would cease to exist. Addiction is a struggle that can only be overcome with time. He wasn't fine but they were young and in love, they had time. With every day that passed he was getting stronger. That didn't mean there weren't still bad days; days when Blaine could barely move for fear of excruciating muscle pain and vomiting or one night in particular when Kurt had arrived home tipsy, climbing into bed with a sleeping Blaine and sending him into a panic attack. The smell is what triggered it; Kurt didn't smell like Kurt, he smelt like booze and several of his friends' perfumes and cheap colognes. Blaine had yelled, strings of things he didn't mean ‘you fucking idiot Kurt, you know what that does to me and you- I can't believe-'. Kurt, in his muddled state, was confused and completely broke down, shattering underneath invisible pressure and shutting down in complete horror. He apologised profusely and sobbed and then Blaine sobbed and apologised and assured him he didn't mean it, that he was sorry that he ruined his good night because he was so screwed up.

 

That's why Blaine like that, smiling and laughing and holding him as he sang in his rich croon was so wonderful, of course it always would be, but seeing someone at their worse makes seeing them at their best so much more dazzling. "Hi," he whispered as he hooked his chin over Kurt's shoulder "I like this" he fingered the red bandana Kurt had tied around his head to keep back his bangs. "How strong is it do ya think?" He said voice rough and sultry as his lips brushed the shell of Kurt's ear.

 

Kurt didn't reply, swivelling in Blaine's arms and painting a long stripe of brown from temple to jaw. Blaine stood stock still, arms still hanging limply in front of him and the most hilariously shocked expression animating his features. Slowly he leant toward one of his pallets pressing his palms into the paint and then brandishing them menacingly at Kurt with a devilish grin. He lunged and Kurt leapt away from him, giggling and screeching as he dashed around his easel, Blaine following quickly.

 

Kurt was about to rush into the kitchen when Blaine caught him. With an arm around his waist he hauled him back into his arms, laughing joyously, his honey eyes shining with mischief. He brought one bright blue hand to Kurt's cheek before leaning in for a kiss, feeling him smile against his lips as the music of Cooper's raucous chuckle and Arabella's girlish giggle played in the background.


	34. Thirty Three

Blaine walked into the studio on Friday with Kurt's hand in his and it felt like triumph. Granted they were greeted by a lot of staring and whispering but it was all just gossip. Blaine Anderson had returned and settled down, that alone was reason to talk. Mr Gabriel asked to have a moment alone with Blaine which was mainly to congratulate him for his ‘valiant recovery' and offer him a place in the school's next art show. Blaine accepted cautiously, the contacts and potential offers would be helpful but he'd always been wary of the faculty.

 

Instead of setting up their pieces they both went for the desks. Their final products were complete so all they needed to work on were their portfolios. They worked in silence side by side, trading pencils, and charcoals and pastels here and there. Kurt kept finding Blaine's sketches wedged between the page of his sketchbook and Blaine kept finding his. Minutes ticked by and everything they'd worked for had led to that point, those images in graphite and oil. For Blaine every doodle of an eye or a hand or a toe was precious, just another part of what Kurt was but more than that, a scrap of what he had, one flawless being all for him.

 

When art is your life, you drown in it. Time slips by and the artist submerges himself in a creation, every thought and feeling consumed by brush strokes and shading. That submersion is the goal, an intent focus that may leave you without sleep or food but in the end there'll be a masterpiece. Or a painting that looks like the work of a sleep deprived five year old. Strangely enough sometimes they're the same thing.

 

As the session crept into the final hour Blaine began to panic. His portfolio was perfect but when he thought about the assignment, what he had just didn't quite fit. He had this conceptual piece, Kurt in all his angelic glory but it felt exaggerated, misinterpreted and then amplified. The real Kurt, the Kurt he saw was soft and strong, subtly wild with fierceness unparalleled by anyone Blaine had ever known (except maybe Helena). When he looked at Kurt it was a surprise he didn't just sprout wings but alternately that wasn't who he was. Kurt was just  _human_ , with flaws that didn't make Blaine love him any less and a heart the size of Jupiter that made him love him even more.

 

Blaine was up out of his seat and halfway down the stairs in a matter of seconds. Kurt stumbled down behind him. "Blaine wha- what are you doing?"

"I forgot something. I need to go get it." Blaine replied furtively.

"But you can't just leave!" Kurt whispered back.

"I  _need_  to. I'll play the wounded soldier card if I have to!"

 

Blaine made it down the stairs, almost tripping and breaking his neck on the third from the bottom step but he made it. He sidled up to Mr Gabriel's desk, smiling, the epitome of charm as he managed to cajole his teacher into allowing him half an hour to retrieve what ever he needed (within reason) and then return. Blaine thanked him profusely, grabbed Kurt's hand and ran from the room, leaving his boyfriend thoroughly bemused.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

The apartment wasn't that far away from NYU but it seemed like hours before they finally arrived. They wasted precious minutes avoiding almost every puddle. "These boots are expensive Blaine, unless you want to buy me a new pair." Kurt hissed as Blaine tried to drag him through another puddle. "Honey neither of us can afford to buy you new boots, we're students." He replied, steering Kurt around a puddle when he wouldn't go through it.

 

Travelling through even the smallest part of New York in the middle of the day when it's raining was irksome. The streets were even narrower with the insurmountable amount of umbrella's clogging up the side walks and no one was particularly pleasant toward the two art students, hand in hand and running like mad men, splashing through the rain toward the apartment building on the corner.

 

"I swear to God Blaine you better get a good grade for this." Kurt muttered looking gloomily down on his rain spattered outfit as they opened the door to the apartment. The place was a mess and Kurt watched fondly as Blaine hopped over piles of clothes, jumped over spreads of sketchbooks and skittered around stray pencils and paint brushes. "I thought you said I was, and I quote ‘a genius'?" He yelled as he disappeared into the studio.

"I believe I didn't say that about your art sweetheart," Kurt bellowed back, idly tidying some of the mess "and besides everyone knows you don't trust what your lover says in the throws of passion."

 

Blaine popped his head round the door frame and smirked, "yeah because coming three times in one night doesn't mean there might be truth in that statement." He winked before dashing back into the studio and rushing back out with a covered canvas under his arm and a twinkle in his eye.

 

"It's still not true" Kurt said petulantly, a rosy blush staining his cheeks as Blaine continued to stare him down.

"It is and you know it." Blaine fluttered kisses up Kurt's throat before lingering on his lips.

"It is" Kurt conceded breathlessly and Blaine crashed there lips together, a short hard press and a promise of  _later_.

"Thank you! I win!" Blaine exclaimed with a grin before grabbing Kurt's hand and dragging him off back out of the apartment and onto the streets.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

They stood by their easels silent and jittery as they awaited their judgement. Kurt clutching Blaine's hand as Mr Gabriel steadily approached. During their time together the art always seemed to fade into the background, a canvas for their messy and tumultuous journey. Only then did their work seem so important. This was their careers, their future but the pieces they'd submitted seemed so much more than that. Little pieces of each other in the other's eyes there for all to see.

 

As Mr Gabriel spoke to Kurt about his piece and his concept it was obvious immediately that he understood how Kurt felt, if the way his fingers were entwined with Blaine's didn't give it away. Kurt explained about the first time they'd met, the way he'd studied Blaine's work in awe that first day and immediately fell in love with Blaine's art. What he didn't say was that it only took a little bit longer for him to fall in love with Blaine himself. Mr Gabriel questioned his concept, how the wolf resembled Blaine and he quietly replied, with surety "Blaine was the lone wolf Mr Gabriel, but now he's pack."

 

By the time Mr Gabriel turned to him Blaine was trying desperately not to cry. All that time and he had never really known all the ideas behind Kurt's piece. It made sense, suddenly, like the whole thing had been shrouded in cloth and Kurt had just whipped it away revealing something that meant more to him than what he could ever express. There were two wolves, one with dark unruly fur and blazing golden eyes and another, with a sleek chestnut coat streaked with white and the most brilliantly blue eyes Blaine had ever seen.

 

Blaine smiled and shook Mr Gabriel's hand with as much strength as he could muster. He gushed about his piece, explaining every detail and choice he'd made with enthusiasm and it was clear that art was his passion. "And the angelic aspect?" Mr Gabriel questioned "What about that Mr Anderson?" Blaine took a deep breath and stared at his painting as if it held all the answers.

 

"It's no secret what I've been through," he started "and one of the only reasons I'm still here is because of Kurt. I'd been in the dark so long that even one glimpse of light had the power to shake me up and give me hope." Blaine paused and tugged on Kurt's hand to bring him closer. "When his name was called my first thought was ‘well done Blaine but you don't have a hope in hell of making him yours' but in time I learnt more about him and he was so full of light and compassion and love that even an ounce of him would've had to be enough. It turns out that an ounce wasn't enough for  _him_."

 

Kurt laughed wetly, squeezing Blaine's hand and flicking tears from his cheeks. "My piece is semantically angelic because that's how I saw him. He understood, he cared and he helped me, to get better and to get stronger," Blaine shook his head and laughed, "but ultimately I helped myself, I idolised him and marked him as something unattainable, out of my reach when all he ever wanted was me, flaws and all."

 

Mr Gabriel shook his head confusedly. "So what you're saying is that this isn't how you identify Mr Hummel?" He asked intrigued. "No," Blaine considered, "what I'm saying is that Kurt will always be my angel but the more literal, undeniably human Kurt is what's pure. Like this." Blaine gestured to his other easel, the one holding the very first depiction of Kurt Blaine had ever created. Blaine stood proudly by it, the soft pastel of Kurt's skin and teasing, light filled blue of his eyes shining from the canvas like a mirror of Kurt's very soul.

 

"I would have submitted this if I'd had my stupid epiphany before class because this is what Kurt Hummel is to me. The Kurt I only ever thought I'd see in dreams brought to waking. He's my friend, my angel, my lover," he hesitated winking at Kurt as he let the term slip from his lips, "pure, honest, loving sensual and breathtakingly beautiful."

 

He reached for the pencil behind his ear. "He's mine," he signed his name in the bottom right hand corner "and I am his."

 

"Ti amo."


	35. Epilogue

It hadn't taken much to persuade Kurt to help ‘decorate' the apartment. At first he'd gotten excited, muttering about paint swatches and contrasting furniture but then he'd realised what painting the walls would mean. Painting the walls meant painting over all of Blaine's work, the beautiful pieces immortalised on plain plasterboard. That's what prompted him to realise what Blaine actually meant by ‘decorating'. Blaine wanted Kurt to use the walls as his canvas, just as he had when the apartment was his alone. He wanted Kurt to help make it  _theirs_.

 

Kurt was so touched that he immediately went to work. Even the door frames, windowsills and skirting boards were wound in his creations. Almost every blank space was filled and their home really was a work of art. After winter break Blaine officially asked Kurt to move in and after four years the walls still weren't filled despite the odd grey area where Arabella had gotten overzealous with the crayons and neither Kurt nor Blaine had the heart to wash it off.

 

In four short years Blaine was happier than he had ever been. Cooper had a lovely new girlfriend Emily, who fawned over Kurt and Blaine so much more than she did Cooper that there would have been reason to believe that she was only with Cooper for them had it not been for the fact that she was very much in love with him and cared for Bella as if she were her birth mother. Kurt had forayed into fashion design, earning himself money at an internship at Vogue whilst doing commissions on the side for the extra cash. Blaine's final piece earned him a transfer offer from the New York Academy of Art where he finished his schooling and through various exhibits and hoity-toity gallery events he earned his place as a member of the New York City Artist's Guild's up and coming list. The success was sweet but all the celebratory sex they'd been having was even sweeter.

 

Four years and a Thursday found Kurt out meeting a commissioning client as Blaine rushed around the place trying to make everything just so. His plan was sketchy and as Kurt's return drew closer he started to panic. He'd painstakingly arranged everything but still fretted over even the tiniest detail. He knew he should have planned better but his main concern was what it was all for. Convinced he could do no more he settled into position and resigned himself to another forty five minutes of waiting.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Kurt was having one of the most stressful days of his life. He'd spent all morning finalising with his boss at Vogue his contribution to the first spring issue and then dashed straight off to meet with his client, Mrs Leonita, a small woman with big unreasonable demands and an even bigger head. Kurt should have just refused to work for her but he needed the money and she was a lawyer, reeling in big money so she could afford high quality pieces like Kurt's.

 

He loved his job and he loved doing the odd commission here and there but he missed the college days where he and Blaine would rush to class or work and return home later always to each other, spending hours before the sunset sketching and painting before abandoning their hard work for sweeter and sweatier pursuits.

 

As he trudged up the stairs to the apartment his breath came a little easier and the tightness in his chest eased considerably. He was hoping for one of those afternoons. The thought of Blaine, flitting around the apartment working studiously on his latest creation, most likely with a cigarette in hand, was what got him through long boring days at the office and tedious meetings with the likes of Mrs Leonita.

 

He didn't hear the usual commotion behind his front door as he stepped up to let himself in, which struck him as curious to say the least, Blaine was seldom quiet. He paid it no heed though as he let out a long suffering sigh, turned the key in the lock and shoved his shoulder against the wood to pop it open. He took his coat and boots off in the hallway, for once taking little notice of where they landed and being much more concerned with luring his boyfriend away from his work and forcing him into cuddly submission.

 

"Hey honey!" He called out into the strangely silent apartment, "I'm home and I swear if Mrs Leonita calls one more time to ‘see how it's going' I'm going to cross-hatch her face with my fingernails." When Blaine didn't reply he instantly felt uneasy. Lately silence was rare and often only meant one thing. Something they only referred to as ‘a bad day'. They didn't happen frequently but when they did they were unpredictable. A heavy silence usually meant the calm before the storm, the few short days when tension would build and Blaine's thoughts would scream at him before he finally snapped.

 

"Blaine, baby?" He called nervously, shuffling towards the living room, "I'm home, are you oka- OH!" The moment Kurt rounded the corner to the living room he felt the tears threatening to fall. With a mixture of relief and shock he stumbled back, leaning heavily against the wall as a startled squeaky giggle escaped from behind the hand clasped over his mouth.

 

There, in the middle of the living room, sat Blaine cross legged and jittery, holding a little black box and wearing a watery smile. He was surrounded by art work, sketches of them both scattered across the floor and pinned across the walls, candles flickering steadily dotted randomly around the room. The apartment was cast in shifting shadows and warm orange light. The paint and pastel of the pieces arranged artfully on easels glowed incandescent. The curve of Kurt's lower back appeared as smooth and as pale as porcelain, the irises of Blaine's eyes soft and shining in the candle light.

 

They were nothing compared to the real thing. Blaine, down on one knee then, hands fumbling with the little black box. "Before you say it I know the candles around this much paper is a fire hazard but conveniently John hasn't fixed the wiring yet." Blaine laughed breathlessly, fighting to get the box open and just  _ask already_. "Blaine I-" Kurt started, unable to hold the tears at bay any longer. "No no no just- just let me- shit." Blaine mumbled, sliding forward on his knees and subsequently dropping the box. "This would have been a lot smoother  _with_  electricity and  _without_  the paper cuts."

 

Kurt grinned, slipping to his knees in front of Blaine and handing him back the box. "Deep breath and on three..." Kurt started.

"Tell me you're in love with me." Blaine breathed out in reply, "I'm nervous, I feel like I'm asking you to prom."

"I expect this is a little bigger than prom Blaine."

"Right yeah. Thanks for that, I'm just gonna-"

 

"Kurt."

"Good start." Blaine sent him a half hearted glare.

 

"Kurt. I never dared to hope I'd end up as happy as I am with you. I know we don't have much, hell that elevator's still a death trap and there are at least three health and safety issues in every room. But it's home, really we could be living in motels and it would still be home, because you're with me. You're beautiful and smart and witty and funny and sexy and gorgeous and I'm the luckiest man on earth. We've been through hard times and through it all I've never been able to believe how lucky I am, that I'm yours and you're mine. So if you'd like, if you'll have me, I want forever. Kurt Hummel, marry me maybe?"

 

Kurt stared for a long while, paying no attention to Blaine as he bounced anxiously on his knees. "How long did it take you to rehearse that?" He asked, misty eyes dancing playfully in the flickering candle light. Blaine didn't answer. He held the elegant silver band in between his thumb and forefinger before asking once more.

 

"Sposami, amore mio."

"Sì."

 

Blaine yelped in victory smiling and crying as he yanked Kurt in by his shirt collar. He peppered his face with kisses, kissing away tears and tasting salt on his lips. He fumbled with the ring once more, slipping it on and kissing the knuckle without taking his eyes off Kurt's. Kurt took a closer look at the ring before climbing into Blaine's lap, knocking him onto his back, the flurry of paper causing most of the candles to extinguish. In the fading light the engraving shone, the promise plain and simple.

 

_Ti amo, mia musa. Da sempre e per sempre._


	36. Author's Note

First and foremost thank you for reading, I really appreciate the time you’ve dedicated to reading this fic or any in its series. The truth is, this fic, as my first ever fanfiction, makes me uncomfortable for a lot of reasons but there are also a few things that make me keep it up here on AO3.

 

The first version of this fic was completed and published in 2012 and the version here on AO3 is a cross post so I could keep all my fic from various fandoms in one place. I like to think I’ve grown a lot since this fic was published, as both a writer and a person. Don’t worry this isn’t a post apologising for the overuse of the phrase ‘tea stained eyes’ or the formatting inaccuracies, the extremely premature ‘I love you’ and the gratuitous use of Italian (which, although I had translation help, is not a language I speak).

 

I’m writing this author’s note, many years later and with those years, much more experience, to address some of the themes in this fic and those in its subsequent series and I’ve been thinking about adding this author’s note for a long time. I set out to write an angst fic at the age of 16 which utilised common fandom ‘angst tropes’ but addressed them from the perspective of a survivor, and tell a story that followed Blaine’s journey, through trauma, abuse and addiction. I wanted to tell a story of empowerment, that avoided implementing a significant other as a ‘saviour’. Much of the intricacies of these issues are clumsily addressed, many missed and although I did do extensive research into addiction and psychological responses to trauma it is in no way as comprehensive and as meticulous as I would like it to be.

 

The fact of the matter is that fanfiction doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it is influenced by, and has an influence on ,the world and the individuals that read it and I see now that fics such as those in the masterpieces verse only exist because the individuals who have experienced trauma and abuse have, through great lengths, told their own stories. These stories are real. This is why I feel it is important that when any form of abuse is portrayed in fiction and fanfiction it is portrayed as  **unacceptable** . I don’t believe that this fic glorifies or romanticises the abuse that Blaine experienced but there are elements of the story that are clumsy and mishandled. I personally feel as though this does a disservice to those who are survivors of trauma and abuse.

 

As I said previously, I will keep this fic up as testament to my own progress as a writer but also because I do think it has some merit in it’s approach to addressing a character’s personal journey and movement toward whatever form of ‘recovery’ they seek.

 

In conclusion, fics like Be My Muse do not exist in a vacuum and it was important for me, at this stage in my personal and writing life, to emphasise that abuse should not be romanticised or glorified in fiction and it certainly will not be in mine.

  
Thank you for reading.


End file.
